


The  Path of Sorrow

by laurie_ky



Series: A Glimmering From Afar [1]
Category: Sentinel - Fandom
Genre: 2010 Sentinel Big Bang, AU, Bonding, Future Fic, M/M, Space Opera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-13
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 54,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurie_ky/pseuds/laurie_ky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a rigid class society, bastard Blair Sandburg has worked hard for his education, and is currently doing research for his doctorate on the tropical planet of Quyllur. Jim Ellison thumbed his nose at what his father expected of him and became an Orion's Hunter and then a Protecter. Their paths are about to cross when a new drug hits the streets of Cascade, New Rainier.</p><p>Written by Laurie</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Written for Patk for Moonridge 2007](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Written+for+Patk+for+Moonridge+2007).



> Written for the first Sentinel Big Bang, 2010. This is the first story in a series, _A Glimmering From Afar_.  
>  Much, Much, Much thanks go to Patt Rose and T. Verano, for cheerleading and asking questions, and to Blue Wolf for being the main Beta, and to Luna61, for additional beta work and for the artwork she did, which can be seen at my LJ.

 

 _A Glimmering From Afar_ series

 

I see, or think I see,  
A glimmering from afar;  
A beam of day, that shines for me,  
To save me from despair.

William Cowper

 

 _The path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to the lands where sorrow is unknown._

William Cowper

  
**  
_The Path of Sorrow_   
**   


  


Book One of the _A Glimmering From Afar_ Series.

 

 **Part One**

I strode up to the MIC checkpoint, in the lobby of the building that was twice the size of my old one, impatiently holding the back of my hand up so the skimmer could read my code.

Captain Banks' private holo-post to me this morning had been cryptic, to say the least. It had been marked with a security ten rating, and I'd had to engage a confidentiality shield in my office before it would play.

The holo-message had flickered for a moment before settling down – my emitter was due for servicing, but it took an act of the Celestial Congress or a bribe for any tech to trudge up here to the ninety-third floor.

I'd leaned back in my desk chair and parked my boots on top of my desk, then watched the holo-post; a large, dark skinned man rose from his chair and said “Ellison” before proceeding to tell me that I'd been transferred from my own division to his.

'Peachy,' I'd thought sourly, and paused the projection in order to study my new boss.

Banks was more than just tall, judging from how he towered over the furniture in his office. He was well muscled and had a sardonic expression on his face. I'd sighed and said my password to the ancient slave on the desk to engage verbal mode on, and requested that information on Captain Simon Banks, head of Major Interplanetary Crime, be downloaded from records and public sources, prioritized by relevancy to protector work, and be transferred to the mobile slave on my wrist.

Then I'd continued to watch the message till it finished.

Banks had ordered me to come to a briefing at his office that afternoon, graciously allowing me the rest of the morning to transfer my current cases to other detectives in the Vice division. My division head was out on vacation and the acting head, who didn't know me from Adam, had been notified and had, according to Banks, cleared my way to exit Vice and enter MIC.

I had no personal effects to take with me, and there wasn't anybody here that warranted a private goodbye. The rest of the division would be notified of my transfer soon enough, and I wondered if Xing would take the opportunity to take over my office. He thought it was more spacious than his own, and had been convinced that I'd been assigned it because I was a middle elite and he was only an upper superior.

I'd be glad to be free of hearing him whine about it, at least.

The skimmer's warm male voice broke into my thoughts, letting anybody who was listening in the lobby know that my main sexual preference was for males. Great. I preferred it when the skimmers used a robotic unisex voice instead of identifying sexual orientation from the code and then blabbing it to any bystander by using the voice of the gender that you were mainly attracted to, which in my case was males. Not that I'd turn down the occasional female, particularly if she was tall and red-headed. But it was men who were my main food group. Women were just for the occasional dessert.

“Citizen is verified as Ellison, James Joseph. Member of the middle elite class. Father, William James Ellison. Paternal grandfather, Joseph William Ellison. Paternal grandmother--.”

I interrupted. The skimmer could go on in this fashion back to the first Ellison who'd settled on New Rainier five hundred years ago.

“Stop the genealogy lesson. I've been assigned to MIC, and need authorization to enter this division added to my code.”

“Authorization listed and will be completed following level three verification. Please touch the box on the screen, and look directly at the green light.” I did so and the skimmer hummed a little as it took my retinal scan and verified that my actual DNA matched what was listed in my code.

“Verified. Authorization will proceed in five seconds. Please place your hand on the screen.”

A cookie cutter outline of a hand appeared on the screen and I placed my right hand over it, exposing the back of my hand with the small tattoo of the circle with the black triangle within, the scarlet colored section to the right of the triangle showing the universe that I was indeed, a member of the middle elite class. A member, yes, but not one in particularly good standing. Being a protector was considered more of a job for the superior and the upper common class members, not the elites.

Tough shit. I had long ago decided that my class was not going to limit me in my choices in life. Of course, in a way that was easy for me to say. I had no limits imposed on me for what I could do. It just wasn't considered seemly for an elite to get his hands dirty in a protector's career. Or a hunter's vocation.

I had been a hunter before I became a protector. I didn't mind getting my hands dirty. I preferred it to being one of the gods of business.

“Two... one... Do not move your hand. Initializing updates.” There was a different hum for two seconds, then it stopped and the skimmer told me, in its honeyed tones, that I was cleared to enter the Major Interplanetary Crime Division employee areas.

I asked for directions to Captain Banks' office, and took myself off to find out why in the pit of doom I was here.

///

 

Banks had a no-nonsense look about him and pointed to a straight-back chair after our obligatory man-to-man handshake. I felt a little relieved that I hadn't felt any sparks of interest in him when we'd touched. It would make life a lot simpler for me if I didn't care about what he'd look like naked.

“Detective. Have a seat.”

I raised an eyebrow at him in reply and gave back a deadpan stare. I'd had my slave brief me on Captain Simon Banks, born to the upper common class but raised up to middle superior by a lot of effort on his part. This was a smart man, a driven and dedicated man, one who had a talent for leadership.

I wasn't looking forward to finding out why I'd been chosen to become one of his men. I doubted that it had been in _my_ best interests to have been transferred.

And after he started explaining what my assignment would be, I knew my skepticism had been more than justified. Damn. I was going to Quyllur and I had seriously fucked up feelings about that. I'd been... different there. But then, being mind-wiped will do that to a guy. I pulled my head out of my ass, though, and paid attention to what the Captain was saying.

“The political situation with Quyllur is coming to a head. The planet will be accepted as a colony world within the next six months and then Quyllur will be under New Rainier's laws. And when that happens, we're going to be in place to smash the pipeline supplying the magical ingredient to make Yana.”

I frowned. Yana was a relatively new drug on the street, but its effects were devastating. I'd seen people with Yana fried brains, and they acted like the old stories about zombies.

“I never saw anybody that was Yana brain dead when I was living on Quyllur, Captain Banks. What's this magical ingredient you mentioned? And do you know who's supplying it?”

“We don't know for certain who is involved, but we've got at least one name that's on the short list of candidates. But we've got no hard evidence on him, and I don't want to have tunnel vision about who we're looking for. Could be another group or individual that's handling things. Here's what we've compiled so far.” Banks handed me a dot, and I fed it into my slave.

“That's why we're going to send you there. You lived with the Sho'nakan, and we want you to use those contacts and find out who is buying or gathering the plant, or plants that are used to make Yana. Investigate our number one boy, gather evidence to nail his ass legally if he's the one spreading the Black Plague.”

Yana meant black in Sho'nakan. Black Plague was what doctors had started calling it when patients had begun to flood hospitals. It didn't kill the body, though. Just the soul and the mind.

Banks touched the emitter on his large desk, and indicated with his eyes for me to turn around.

The holo was of a young man, early twenties, I'd say, frozen in place with a mischievous grin on his lovely face. He had a mop of long brown curls that reached his shoulders, dangling earrings and several necklaces – I recognized one as Sho'nakan work – and a full, sweet-looking mouth.

I kept staring at that mouth, my dick taking an interest in what I was seeing.

Banks cleared his throat, and I turned back to him. He opened an expensive looking box on his desk and took out a cigar, an expensive one from the aroma, maybe from Marna, and held it.

“I'm not sending you out totally on your own, Ellison. Jack Pendergrast will be working with you to establish your cover on Quyllur, since he's already undercover there. And I'll be by occasionally, too, in the role of a crooked power-lord. I like to evaluate my men out in the field, and we'll leak the story that you work for me as a bodyguard and a point man. Should work well with you showing an interest in horning in on the Yana drug trade.”

Jack Pendergrast. That must be the name of the kid on the holo. I got up from my seat and walked towards the projection, my eyes drawn again to that sinful looking mouth. He'd be my partner. And maybe I could interest him in being my bed-partner as well. I wanted a taste of those lips and and I wanted to see him sucking my cock.

“So, this is my new partner?” I addressed Banks, but I didn't face him. “This kid is Jack Pendergrast?”

I was glad I wasn't looking at Banks when he answered.

“Jack? No. Jack's downstairs, and you'll be meeting with him to work out the undercover details after our meeting.”

I heard Banks push away from his desk and scant seconds later he had joined me, a fat cigar in his hand. He used it to point to the three dimensional image of the kid.

“This is the man we suspect of inventing Yana and supplying the ingredients in some form to the drug chefs.”

I felt my heart sink. Fuck. I'd have to try and forget that instant attraction to him that I'd felt. Wanting to bone the criminal responsible for the misery that Yana left in its trail... Hell of a way to start a new case.

Banks kept talking and, thank the Higher Powers, he didn't act like he knew I'd just been caught with my pants down and my dick out.

“His name is Blair Sandburg, age twenty-three. He's a member of the bastard class, and he's a smart son-of-a-bitch. He's a grad student, supposedly doing research on the plants the Sho'nakan use in order to earn his PhD. He's got degrees in Biology and Anthropology, and a Masters in Botany. He's close to earning his doctorate in Environmental Anthropology.”

“Why is he a suspect? What's his motive?”

“Motive? Well, he's never kept it a secret that he wants to change his class. He's gone to school on scholarships from some of the charities that help those people. And by all accounts he's worked hard to prove himself worthy, and he's fulfilled the education requirement for leaving his class behind. He's made excellent grades, even had been a teaching fellow before leaving to do his field research.”

So, his ambition might have outstripped his ethics. Wouldn't be the first time somebody made that decision; if so, I wondered how he managed to sleep at night. Banks walked around the image, then returned to his desk. I stayed where I was.

Banks continued. “But he needs money, too. He's got to have a decent bank account to prove he's ready to be assigned up the social ladder. This drug money can be laundered into something respectable. He could use the cash to bribe somebody into adopting him. He's got no father listed on record, but an adoption would speed things up for him, and he could jump up to the upper common or even the superior class that way.”

I frowned. So far this was just speculation. “What's the rest?”

Banks shot me a hard look. Probably my tone of voice hadn't been respectful enough. I told myself to watch the attitude. I'd been known as a hard-assed son-of-a-bitch in Vice, but it had occurred to me after I'd gotten the news of my transfer that this was an opportunity to clean up my act. Well, a little bit, anyway.

“Sandburg's research on the medicinal plants the Sho'nakan use just happens to coincide with the emergence on the street of Yana. We've just recently traced back a connection from a drug chef to a supplier of the ingredient, and the physical description we sweated out of the supplier matches Sandburg. But he couldn't pick Sandburg out from several others when we showed him a holo lineup. There's a good chance the guy was too smashed when he made the deal to remember Sandburg's exact features. We know Sandburg was on New Rainier at the time. He comes here several times a year, about every four months. Supposedly it's to work with his thesis adviser, use the lab facilities of the University of Rainier, and stock up on supplies, but we think that's when he's selling the recipe and ingredients for Yana to the drug chefs.”

Banks gusted out his frustration. “But we don't have enough evidence to arrest him, or win a case in court. That's why we need you, Detective Ellison. You've got insight and connections to the Sho'nakan that can help us fill in the gaps. We can arrest him on Quyllur for supplying Yana or the ingredients, as soon as Quyllur's petition to join with New Rainier is accepted by the Celestial Congress.”

He rose up from the desk and walked over to the door. I got the hint and moved there, too.

“Make yourself comfortable in the first room on the right from my office. You'll need to go over the details of the case on that dot I gave you. Pendergrast will meet with you in two hours. I want the two of you to leave for Quyllur the day after tomorrow. You won't be back for some time, so make arrangements for that.”

He gave me a hard clap on the shoulder. “I've heard good things about your work, Detective; I need you to nail Sandburg's ass before more people join the living dead.”

Banks opened his door but before I stepped out, I glanced back at the holo of Blair Sandburg. His big blue eyes seemed to stare right at me, a welcoming smile in them.

If Banks was right, he was poison wrapped up in a pretty package.

And if Banks was wrong... I stopped myself from going down that path. He was a suspect. I was going to either condemn him or clear him. What I wouldn't be doing in either case was fucking him.

I took my leave of Banks and once in the room down the hall, I engaged privacy mode, got myself a large cup of kaffee from the courtesy cart, sat down and propped my feet up on the desk in my favorite position for thinking. Then I ordered my slave to project the reports on the case.

I was far from thrilled about this assignment, but that wouldn't stop me from doing my best.

And for the first time in years, I allowed myself to wonder about the friends I'd made on Quyllur and if my adopted people, especially Incacha, our shaman, would welcome me back.

///

 

“So, Jimmy... Welcome to my humble abode. Sit down, put your feet up.”

It was cool in the small house, and a welcome relief to the heat and humidity outside, and Jack pointed to a comfortable looking wicker chair, then disappeared into another room, the kitchen from the sound of him rummaging through cupboards. I did as he suggested and enjoyed the feel of the breeze from the ceiling fans. Jack's place was about twenty minutes from the town of Quilla Rumi, and about ten minutes from the beach, and the jungle vegetation was almost at his doorstep. It was private here, but he'd said he didn't make his arrangements at his home. Mostly that happened in the bars and small restaurants in town or during purposeful walks down to the marina.

We'd made the flight from New Rainier in record time once we'd emerged from the tessering roll-through into orbit – Jack's bird was one deceptively looking souped up machine – and we'd hammered out the cover story for me on the way.

Jack would introduce me around as a 'cousin', which would let the right sort of people know that I was connected to the people Jack did jobs for here on Quyllur. Jobs that involved setting up smuggling, drug running, prostitution, and gambling.

Jack was a middle man, and was in deep cover. He'd been here for two years, and was gathering evidence so that when Quyllur was accepted into the New Rainier compact, there would be one hell of a house cleaning. But he'd drawn a blank on finding the Yana connection, either from the drug runners or from those who had connections to the people who lived in the jungle.

The indigenous people here, like the Sho'nakan, didn't talk to outsiders much. There was minimal trading, and it took a shaman's approval before anyone was truly accepted by a tribe.

Incacha had allowed me to stay with him. He'd consulted the spirits and held a ceremony purifying me and gaining me acceptance from our people.

I remembered it. I remembered everything that had happened to me once I'd awoken in the jungle. It had been my previous life that had been a blank.

I had been damn lucky that I'd been found and given a place within the tribe, although Incacha had told me when I'd left to resume my life as a hunter that the spirits had willed it that I join the Sho'nakan.

I'd reverted to what I truly was while I lived here. I'd become a sentinel.

If I'd stayed much longer with the tribe, I would have had to bond with a guide in order to stay sane. And in my mind-wiped state, I probably would have joined with one, if one had been available.

Incacha had helped, as much as he could, but he wasn't a guide. He'd been able to stave off the worst of the spikes and zones I'd fall into, but at times life had been pure hell for me, my out-of-control senses trapping me into either pain or blankness.

Later, when Incacha couldn't find me a guide within our tribe, he'd sent inquiries out into the wider world, and that resulted in my being found by a patrol of Orion's Hunters and pulled out of Quyllur. My mind-wipe had been reversed, thank the Higher Powers, although it had been a near thing. And I hadn't been able to identify who had done that to me.

Jack came back out, bearing a bottle in his hand and two mugs. “Here. I bet you remember this; it'll send you right to Nirvana.”

He filled the mugs and handed one to me. I took a deep, appreciative sniff.

Ah, Blue Heaven. Agrasa; Nirvana was right. The deep blue native drink was smooth and flavorful, distilled from a berry that grew everywhere here, and I'd always found it had a calming effect as you got drunk. Nice.

Jack filled me in on the local power structure, and what he knew of the Yana trade. It seemed to be restricted to New Rainier, he hadn't heard of any Yana victims on Quyllur.

He hadn't heard of Sandburg, either. So the kid probably wasn't a player because Jack had an ear to the ground about the illicit activities being conducted under the noses of the local law. Once the ratification was pushed through, the New Rainier law code would be in effect, and activities that were marginally legal or considered minor infractions would become illegal .

So Sandburg wasn't on Jack's scanner. That fit with the current theory, that Sandburg had stumbled on how to produce Yana and was taking advantage of the opportunity to make some quick cash in order to get out of his class.

We worked out our strategy, and I told him that after he'd introduced me around as his 'cousin', who was looking for additional business, I'd go deep into the bush and meet up with Incacha.

While the Sho'nakan avoided the towns and cities of Quyllur and were suspicious of most people that did contact them, Incacha would welcome me back to my adopted people. I hoped. We'd parted on good terms, even if I hadn't come back afterward to see him and the rest of the tribe. Thinking about that time of my life was something I'd avoided. My unit had been destroyed, my teammates killed, and I remembered nothing about it, or why I had been spared. The only thing left of my garrison had been the wreckage of our bird, strewn in orbit around a planet far from here. Somebody had wanted me alive, but not in any shape to bring them down. Somebody had gone to a lot of trouble to dump me, unhurt but dazed, memory of my past life gone, far into the jungle. And the jungle held its own dangers for the ignorant.

I owed a lot to the Sho'nakan.

Incacha would tell me if he knew who was supplying the plant that, when altered, made Yana so dangerous.

If he didn't know, he would help me find out. I could count on his assistance.

Our talk turned to other matters, not really personal; we didn't know each other well enough for that, but Banks' name came up.

Jack liked him, said he was blunt but he'd go to bat for you, and wasn't the type to sacrifice his people for internal politics. They weren't friends, but Jack respected him. He was a good boss.

“Why is he taking such a personal interest in this case? I mean, he's the head of MIC. He told me he was going to come here himself, check things – and me – out. I would have thought he'd be too busy for that.”

“Well... It's not common knowledge. But I know a lot of people, I hear things. His son had a close call with Yana. Some party the kid was at, and Yana was used to spike people's drinks. Daryl's best friend is fried now because of getting a taste of it at that party, and our Captain promised his kid he'd put an end to Yana being on the street.”

Jack excused himself to bed then. I stayed outside on the porch, feeling the breeze, smelling the heavy scent of tropical flowers, and remembering my life here as the tribe's sentinel. I had been wrong to avoid returning here but after I'd left I'd been grieving for my men, and feeling guilty for surviving. It had been easier to put everything out of my mind and in repressing their deaths, I'd also buried my memories of the people who had adopted me and cared for me as one of their own.

I was glad now that Banks had sent me to Quyllur. It would be good to see my people again, and this time when I left I would plan to return soon. New Rainier might be where I lived, but Quyllur was home.

///

 

My father would be disgusted at how easily I was accepted as a criminal by the people Jack introduced me to in the next few days, being of the opinion that the finer qualities of my class would be apparent to one and all.

But I had no trouble presenting myself as a dangerous man, menacing and lacking scruples. With Jack as a 'reference', I picked up a couple of small jobs, guarding one man's bird while all kinds of illicit items were loaded up to be smuggled out of the system, escorting others around town while they did their dirty business, that sort of small-timer work.

I used these contacts to ask about Yana. Most had heard of it being a New Rainier drug, but didn't know that it originated from Quyllur. I didn't enlighten them.  
A lot of the smuggling was done with drugs or drinks that were legal in other parts of the system. What was illegal was avoiding paying the export and import taxes on those luxury items.

The local law didn't work too hard to arrest smugglers – the fines were minimal. That would change, of course, after the compact was signed. New Rainier laws were strict, and the threat of being mind-wiped a strong deterrent to crime. These smugglers would move on to other fringe planets, and I predicted that these rats would jump ship as soon as the Celestial Congress voting went one vote over the majority needed for ratification.

So the Yana trade wasn't being run by the established drug runners. That fit with Jack's intelligence.

I asked about Sandburg, but only very casually. I didn't want it to get back to him that a tall man with blue eyes, and who had a hard edge to him, was looking for him. So, I would bring the conversation around to wanting to go into the bush – to sight see, although that idea was met with a lot of skepticism – and I would wonder who might be able to guide me.

A few names would come up, with advice on how to locate those folks. Sandburg's name was supplied by a pretty, dark-haired barmaid at a rundown tavern. She looked like she wished she hadn't mentioned the kid after letting his name slip, but I pushed her on it and she reluctantly told me I could leave him a note on the bar's message board.

“Blair always checks the message board. He's got a thing about not using his comm while he's in the jungle. Actually, he might not be able to afford the bill. He always buys the cheapest thing on the menu, and that boy's clothes are one step away from the recycler.“

She smiled then, her dark eyes lighting up as she thought about Sandburg, and after seeing the kid's holo, I could understand why. He was cute, and from all accounts on the dot Banks had supplied, a lively little flirt.

After more questioning on my part about locating him so I could hire him, she admitted that she didn't know where he stayed when he was in town, but assured me that he would probably show up in a couple of weeks. I wondered if he'd slept with her. He didn't have a steady relationship with anybody, and from the intelligence Banks had on him, apparently never kept anything going too long with the men and women he dated.

Probably a shallow kind of guy. Probably had a user personality, all surface warmth with a veneer of friendliness which would fit with him exploiting victims with Yana. People like that got into your life and did their damage, and then left you gutted and bleeding. I'd had my share of users. Lila and Veronica came to mind. Both had ended up trying to kill me, after they'd gotten me to open up and trust them. Both had used sex as the lure. Luckily, I'd learned from my mistakes. I wouldn't be taken in by Sandburg's pretty face and glib tongue. No matter how he tried to use it.

I gave her a generous tip to ensure that the message with my comm number would stay up on the board. Sandburg was who knows where out in the bush and, from the rough schedule he kept, he wouldn't be stopping by this tavern any time soon.

So I decided my next step would be to see Incacha. My friend. It would be good to talk to him again, to clasp his arm in the way of brothers. And maybe he knew of Sandburg and how I could stop him.

///

 

Being in the jungle this time was very different from my last excursion. Then every one of my senses had been tuned into the slightest change in the environment. Now I was startled by the flight of birds as I came close to their home trees, and the scents in the air were a mixture of undecipherable messages. The light through the foliage overall still looked greenish to me, but I couldn't detect the subtle differences of color in the light that I knew were there.

Sometimes I did miss my senses being at such a high peak of capability. But then I would remember how a spike shattering me felt like being at the bottom of the pit of doom, or how helpless I felt when falling endlessly into a zone, unable to stop my descent and knowing that I could end my life trapped in a web of fascination of the tiniest detail of whatever had caught my attention.

No, it was better to give up the highs than experience the lows again. At least I was able to function as a protector without my senses being so enhanced. I'd have to bond with a guide in order to avoid the sensory problems I'd had before.

I would never do that.

I would never give up my privacy and my own identity to join with a guide, and forever after take co-dependency to the highest extreme.

No, thank you.

It was quite a long hike into the lands that the Sho'nakan traveled, and while I was aiming for the location of the settlement when I was last there, my people might have migrated to where the hunting was better, or certain food plants were concentrated.

They had moved, but a new trail winding away from the old camp led me to them about five miles away.

I hooted a signal as I traveled, announcing that a returning member of the tribe was approaching. While conflict between the different communities of the Sho'nakan were very rare, skirmishes with the outlanders who intruded upon my people's homelands were much more common.

Many different groups on Quyllur were considered to be outlanders by the Sho'nakan – descendents of far back ancestors who had left the traditional lands and became well versed in the use of technology, immigrants from other worlds who built a life on this beautiful world, drifters who came and went, some to explore and some to exploit. All were looked upon with distrust by my people.

I was surprised that Sandburg had managed to cross that barrier of mistrust with the people he had studied, since by all accounts he had lived here for several years and traveled freely through jungle and coastal areas sacred to the Sho'nakan.

It was dusk when I arrived, the night blooming flowers beginning to unfurl and their sweet scents traveling on the breeze. Men and women that I had known acknowledged me with their eyes, but none approached me. Several inquisitive boys and girls, who darted towards me, recognition dawning on their faces, were called back by relatives to stand next to them.

I understood. I had been away far too long. I might be a spirit, clothed in the shape of their sentinel, or a shape-shifter, come to employ evil magic and snatch at children and infants, to consume them in order to add to my supernatural abilities.

They would watch and mutter incantations of protection until Incacha examined me and pronounced me to be free of malice. I would be accepted again once he confirmed that I was Enqueri, the sentinel who had come to them years earlier, and who had then wandered far away from his people. Their brother, who had now returned to his home.

Incacha was waiting for me by his small campfire.

He stood, and while he is a small man, his stature did not diminish the sense of power that radiated from him.

I remained quiet, almost at parade rest, as he walked around me several times. He nodded, and reaching into a small pouch at his waist, he removed a small twig. He bent and lit the leafy end, holding it by the stem, and still watching me, and he drew symbols in the air around me, the smoke trails hanging in the air briefly.

He then inhaled the smoke from the twig, threw what was left into the fire and drew me towards him.

I bent, our mouths meeting in an open mouthed exchange, and I breathed the fragrant tang of Naya into my lungs. We drew apart and I exhaled.

Then Incacha smiled at me and we grasped arms, holding tight for a long minute before ending the embrace.

“Welcome home, Enqueri. Come, let us walk now and let the people know you are yourself, and safe to approach.”

///

 

I spent a week with my people, learning of the changes that had occurred since my departure – who had a new child, who had died, who had joined in marriage, who had become ill, and who had grown well.

In turn, I explained about no longer being a warrior of the stars, but that I had become a protector to a faraway people. And that I had come to find out who was perverting the sacred plants of home into a poison that was soul-killing people who lived on another world.

I asked my people to not talk of me or my reason for returning to Quyllur to outlanders, though. I was building a trap, I told them, and I had no wish to frighten off my prey. I asked that I be told if any approached them offering to trade for the plants, or if they observed the plant being gathered in large amounts. Incacha, as shaman, instructed the tribe to heed my wishes.

I did not ask directly about Blair Sandburg. I did not say he was suspected of stealing the sacred plants and altering them to harm others. Instead, I sifted through the conversations and gossip to see what I could discover without casting suspicion on the man. I preferred to have corroborating evidence, not to influence testimony by my own bias.

Sandburg was known to be visiting the different tribes, all Sho'nakan, but he had not come to this village yet.

Incacha expected him to arrive sometime after the second moon's time of fullness. Apparently, he'd gotten on the good side of several shamans and they had granted approval for him to do his research.

He was being sent from tribe to tribe, and his description went before him. A young man, small for an outlander, with eyes the color of the sea and hair of many shades that twisted and turned. In other words, he matched the description Banks had given me – short, blue-eyed, with curly brown hair. The Sho'nakan had dark brown eyes and black hair, with nary a curl, so Sandburg would look very exotic to them.

He also, Incacha told me, was considered an apprentice to the shamans he had studied under. He could take the final path of a shaman, but where that path would lead to, Incacha did not know. He spoke of the spirit world and what he had learned there regarding this outlander apprentice, and the young foreign man's future was veiled. But he did carry power. And all knew that a shaman could become a tribe's protector or become a witch, a sorcerer, and carry out evil deeds.

Incacha could not gain answers from the powers on the spirit plane as to what Sandburg would become.

But the command to offer the outlander instruction was not to be denied. One ignored the spirit world's guidance at their peril and Incacha would not risk the people's well-being by defying their directives.

So Incacha waited for Sandburg to come to him. In the meantime, I would work on setting my trap. I said my goodbyes to my people, promising to return soon, and I made my way back to town.

///

 

The message I'd left for Sandburg at the run down bar had paid off. He'd scribbled a number on the note I'd pinned to the message board listing where he could be reached for the next few days.

But I was too late when I called. The sleepy voice on the other end of the comm told me that, yeah, Blair had crashed with them for a couple of days, but that he'd gone to visit some other friends. He had me wait while he dug around to locate the comm number where Sandburg now could be reached.

“Doesn't he have his own comm, instead of using all of his friend's numbers?”

“Nah. He's always broke. Life of a grad student, he says. But nobody minds giving him a hand once in a while. He's a good guest, always helps us out with some project or other while he's here, and boy-oh-boy, can he cook.”

The guy put a cheerful leer into his voice. “He's fun, too. If you know what I mean.”

“He an equal opportunity fun kind of guy?” Sandburg's sexual history had indicated he went out with men and women, but it wouldn't hurt to confirm the intel.

“If by that you mean he goes with guys and gals, then yeah. Hey, he said somebody might call him about a job, but he's not a cash-boy. If that's what you want him for, you might as well not bother comming him.”

“I'm not looking for a piece of change. Did you find that comm number yet?”

The rummaging around the guy had been doing apparently did result in finding the number, because he drawled out the twelve digits before yawning and asking if that was all.

After I'd disconnected, I thought about what I'd learned from that conversation. Sandburg was a good enough con man to make people like him, get himself invited back again and again. He was willing to trade for what he wanted – a roof, food, and access to communication by sleeping around and doing chores.

Apparently he was good in bed and in the kitchen. What a deal for those he hooked up with.

I wondered if he ever _had_ been a cash-boy. There was nothing in his employment records about being a legal prostitute, which was something a lot of the ciphers in his class ended up doing. But he could have been an illegal player, in order to skip paying taxes and avoid the involuntary health supervision required by the legit boys and girls who sold their bodies.

But that kind of record wouldn't have helped him in his quest to qualify for a better class. If he had done it, he'd have wanted to keep it on the sly.

Or maybe he was just into bartering, and had a healthy, carefree libido.

Either way, I wanted to meet with him and take my own assessment of who Blair Sandburg was.

I punched in the number I'd been given, and smiled grimly to myself when the comm was handed over to my target, and a warm, lively voice said, “Hey, this is Blair. Talk to me, man.”

///

 

I'd strung him along on the comm with a casual comment that I was looking for somebody who was familiar with the jungle, and I'd been given his name. I made some excuse about not liking to talk over the airwaves, and offered to buy him a meal and a drink while I explained what the job would be.

Easy as pie to get him to agree. Any kid who was bumming meals from his friends would jump at the chance for a free supper.

So he agreed to meet me at a local bar and grill that Jack had recommended, and described himself to me so I would recognize him. I did the same for him.

I spotted him outside the bar before he saw me, so I kept out of sight to study him. He looked relaxed and happy, occasionally sharing words with people strolling past where he sat on the edge of a rock wall, feet dangling and fingers tapping a rhythm on his thighs. His clothes were colorful, and he was loaded down with bracelets and necklaces and earrings.

I decided to let him know I'd arrived after this green-haired girl did a double-take after walking out of the bar and seeing him. She squealed his name and then proceeded to shove her tongue down his throat, latching both hands on his face.

She'd given him one hell of a kiss before I'd gotten over to them, and I thought it odd that he wasn't kissing her back. He wasn't really trying to stop her, though, so I thought I'd better remind him of why he was here before Miss Grabby Hands tried to drag him away.

Apparently she needed some oxygen because she finally broke off the kiss, and then pouted at him.

“What's the matter, sweets? I thought you adored me. So how come I'm the one doing all the work here?”

She was still holding his face, but he smoothly pried her hands free and touched them to his lips, kissing them. He smiled at her.

“I'm off the market right now, Annette. But after my commitment is over, maybe--”

I'd reached the pair of them and broke into the conversation. “I'm Jim Ellison.”

Sandburg opened his mouth to reply, but the lovely Annette gave me a quick up and down -- and then slapped Sandburg. She pivoted and marched away, and I couldn't help it.

I started to laugh.

“Is your luck with women always this good, Chief?”

He was rubbing his cheek and mouthing “Ow”, then he grinned at me. I had to remind myself that he could be responsible for a lot of misery and deaths, because that smile was blinding me to that truth.

Blair Sandburg was my number one suspect, and in no way was I going to find him attractive.

No way.

Sandburg shrugged his shoulders and hopped off the rock wall. “Man, most of the time I love 'em and leave 'em happy, but once in a while...”

With my fingers, I imitated an air vessel losing altitude and crashing, complete with sound effects.

He chuckled, and held out his hand and I gave him a firm handshake. His palm was callused. “Blair Sandburg. You new to Quyllur, Jim? Oh, uh, is that okay if I call you Jim?” He swept his hand down, indicating his clean but decidedly casual clothing. “I'm an informal kind of guy, but if you'd rather I called you Mr. Ellison, hey, that's all right.”

“Nah, call me Jim, Chief.”

He tilted his head up a little, studying me, and then flashed another one of his probably trademark grins.

“Well, Jim, let's go eat; I'm curious about this job offer you mentioned.”

I stepped up next to him and without thinking put my arm around his shoulder, steering him towards the double doors of the bar. I pulled my arm away to open the door and he shot me a speculative look.

I'd have to make it clear that I wasn't going to hit on him. I could see from that look he was wondering what I wanted, but I hadn't meant to touch him like that.

I thought to myself that there was another possible reason why I was being drawn to him. Because my body obviously _was_ drawn to his. I'd liked the look of him before I knew who he was, back in Banks' office, but now in person I could feel myself wanting to touch him, to stay close. I was going to have to be on my guard.

His genetic profile showed that he carried the constellation of guide genes. Even though my senses were dormant, my body might be taking an interest in a potential partner, in bonding with a guide.

No way in the Hundred Worlds was I going to bond with any guide, let alone a possibly criminal one. I'd double up on my meds, just to make sure that my inner sentinel stayed deeply buried. Anyway, a guide like him, possibly a law breaker but certainly promiscuous, would be just asking for trouble.

I kept my hands to myself as we located an empty table, off to ourselves.  
Sandburg sat opposite from me and laid his palms on the table.

“Uh, I might be reading you wrong, but there are some jobs I won't do, so before you spend money on my dinner maybe you should tell me about what kind of work you're offering. Hey, no hard feelings if I'm not what you were looking for, okay?” He smiled again, a bit ruefully this time.

I forced myself not to react to that look. “I'm not looking for a piece of change, if that's what you're thinking. I heard you know your way around the jungle, and I could use a guide.”

He startled a little when I said guide, and I waited to see if he was going to mention that he was, actually, a guide of a different sort. He didn't say anything about it.

“I know the jungle area fairly well, but to be honest, you could probably hire somebody who knows it better. I could give you some names.”

He sounded a little uneasy, and I shook my head.

“I checked you out. You'll do, Chief. Can't you use the cash?” If he turned me down, then it might mean he had another source of money and could afford to be picky about what work was thrown his way. A source like cash from selling plants to make Yana.

He smiled again. Kid must spend most of the day just grinning at things.

“Oh, man, of course I could use the cash. You know I'm a grad student, right? Enough said. So, what's your interest in the jungle? Talk to me, Jim.”

I explained that photography was a hobby of mine, and since I was here for a while on business I thought I'd add to my collection. I wanted pictures of the plants and animals of Quyllur's jungles.

He agreed to take the job, and we worked out a rough schedule for some excursions. He didn't go into detail about his own research, just said he tended to spend a couple of weeks at time with different groups of the Sho'nakan, and he'd give me a call whenever he was back in Quilla Rumi.

He was free for this week, and we made plans to leave in the morning for a five day trip.

Dinner was good. The food, a platter of fresh fish and mounds of vegetables, was delicious and he was funny and charming throughout the meal. He refused to drink any alcohol, and when I questioned him about denying himself, because it had occurred to me that he might let something slip that I could look into if he was intoxicated enough, he said that right now he had a commitment to honor.

He'd used the same wording to the green-haired girl before she'd clobbered him.

I pressed him about what commitment had him turning down a pretty girl's invitation and free drinks.

Again, he just smiled that grin, and changed the subject. He was curious about me, but after I'd evaded his questions enough he dropped his interrogation and we ended up talking politics about the upcoming ramification.

He was against it, and when I asked him why, he showed me his bastard class tattoo.

“Right now, this code doesn't mean a whole lot out here, on the edge of the Hundred Worlds. I'm judged more for what I do, what I accomplish, than what class I belong to. After New Rainier, that's a refreshing change.”

I took that opening to probe a little, to see how deep that resentment ran against his placement in the bastard class. Banks, Jack, and I were looking into this kid's wanting to climb the social class ladder as a motive for being involved with Yana; if he had become frustrated at the effort it took and was willing to take a shortcut, well, money could buy his way out.

I got an earful about politics, social class, and what Blair Sandburg considered archaic about current society, but I didn't hear any real bitterness. More exasperation than anything.

We parted, agreeing to meet in the morning. I assured him I had all the necessary camping equipment. I had chosen to go up the coast, so we wouldn't be going anywhere near my people, I didn't want any of the youngsters to give me away.

I found that I almost put my arm around him again, as we walked out into the warm night air, but I caught myself. Instead, I clapped him on the back before turning away and starting the walk back to Jack's.

Before I crawled into bed, though, I took double my usual dose of suppressants. This case was complicated enough without having to deal with any sentinel instincts.

Sandburg was a charmer, that was clear enough. No wonder he had people eager to have him stay with them. He was smart not to wear out his welcome, though, since he flitted from buddy to buddy. So he might be intelligent enough to maintain this grad student cover of his, and fool people into believing he was harmless and not the reason Yana was taking hold on New Rainier.

I had no clue what the truth was yet. But I intended to find out.

///

 

Five days later, I had learned a lot about Sandburg's interests – and he was interested in plenty of things – but I had not gained much information that would help the case.

During our excursion, I'd snapped some holos of wildlife, but mostly I'd taken them of plants. He'd identified the flora right and left, and – with very little prompting from me -- he'd explained the medicinal and sacred properties of the plants I had seen Incacha use for healing and in rituals.

I'd quizzed him more about the effects of the plants, and he'd given me vague but truthful answers. I'd dropped enough hints about the kind of businessman I was – smugglers were plentiful on Quyllur – to see if he'd approach me about transporting the Yana plants, but he hadn't.

He could just be satisfied with his current arrangements, though. And know how to keep his mouth shut.

I had clamped down hard on any impulses to touch him or to stand too close to him. The double dose of suppressants I was taking helped but also I was more guarded with him.

I could tell it puzzled him, that I wasn't as friendly during our time in the jungle as I had been over dinner.

I did take note of names that he mentioned in passing. Jack and I would be checking them out, hoping that if we shook enough trees something useful on Sandburg would come loose. We'd have to be discreet though. We wouldn't have the authority to take suspects into custody on Quyllur until ratification pushed though, and currently negations were still stalled.

I would love to take Sandburg in for a truth-test, when he returned to New Rainier. But even the bastard class was protected by law from that procedure unless there was sufficient evidence against the miscreant. And we had squat on him. Any half assessed legal-defender assigned to Sandburg would get the case laughed out of court, and the detective whose premature arrest of the kid had jeopardized the case would be in for an ass-kicking from his supervisors. So Sandburg was safe from being drugged to the gills and having his mind probed. For the time being.

Upon our return to Quilla Rumi, I took him out for another meal and paid him his guide's fee. He'd been more subdued the last two days on the trip, and I was afraid that my aloofness might cause him to decline spending anymore time with me. So I let myself relax and was charming to him. Sandburg wasn't the only one who could pile it on.

It worked. He brightened back up, and by the end of the evening he was laughing and flirting with me.

He was so damn easy to like. If I was lucky, he'd be proved innocent because I hated to think of his brilliance dimmed by a mind-wipe.

He agreed to take me on another excursion when he returned from spending time with another Sho'nakan community. I knew the area where he was planning on going; I'd be there, too, hidden from him. I'd see if he met with a partner-in-crime, catch him making plans to ship the plants.

I would also start looking in other directions for who was the connection, because if Banks was wrong about Sandburg then there was another player to be brought down.

 

///

 

After giving Jack a list of names that Sandburg had mentioned as friends or acquaintances of his, I restocked my camping supplies. I was going to be staking out Sandburg while he did his research, and that meant camping out in the jungle while keeping an eye on the guy.

I'd decided to stop taking my suppressants and let my sentinel abilities resurface. While I could use binocs to see what he was up to, I also needed to hear conversations without taking the risk of his spotting me. I didn't want to plant a listening device on him, either. He was too mobile, and all he really had with him was his backpack, his clothes, and an ancient version of a slave to document his work. His finding a spy-bug was too great of a chance to take.

However, I would be taking a chance that, while using my enhanced senses, I might experience spikes and zones. I'd do my damnedest to avoid them, using every trick Incacha had shown me, but it was a risk.

It was one I was willing to take, though. I wanted to know if Sandburg was guilty or innocent, and the sooner his status was cleared up, the sooner I would know what to do about him – arrest him or take him to bed.

I tailed him as he entered the jungle, and it was so easy to fixate on his scent. He smelled good, not exactly sweet, but there was a trace of honey to him. None of the guides I'd met before had carried that tantalizing scent.

It made me want to lick him, to see if he would taste like honey. I scrubbed my hands over my face as I listened to him greet the shaman of this village, and I told myself to settle down and focus on the job.

I wasn't looking forward to the next couple of weeks. I felt like a kid standing outside a candy store, longing for the sweets but with no credits to exchange for what he wanted.

Yeah. It was going to be an exercise in self control for me to watch and listen, and not touch and taste.

Long couple of fucking weeks, for sure.

///

 

After months of engaging in Sandburg watching, I still had diddly squat. Jack's luck was no better; he hadn't found any connections to the Yana pipeline among the names Sandburg had mentioned in casual conversation.

I'd observed Blair Sandburg, bastard class member, graduate student, apprentice shaman, potential guide, possible drug-forcer enough that _I_ could write a dissertation on the kid.

I'd found out what he'd meant by the commitment that had him turning down invitations for sex and alcohol. The shamans – he was being passed from one tribal shaman to the next for his lessons in the way of the shaman – had instructed him to avoid sex, alcohol, and drugs in order to purify himself for some of the rites they were teaching him. I recognized what he was doing from having seen Incacha doing these ceremonies. He was spirit-walking on the astral plane.

I had traveled that plane a few times myself, sometimes in the form of a black jaguar, and sometimes dressed in the tattered remnants of my Hunters' uniform, with black camouflage markings slashed across my cheeks.

Incacha had helped me to gain access to the spirit plane; it had been when I was mind-wiped and searching for a guide. We'd hoped that the spirits would point me to a guide.

I'd been unsuccessful, and Incacha, fearing for my sanity and health, had sent word to other villages about how I had been found and that I was in need of a guide. It was because Incacha initiated that guide search that scouts from Orion's Hunters had tracked me down and sent me back to my unit. Once there the doctors were able to reverse the mind-wipe, and I returned to taking suppressants, not wanting to bond with a guide now that I had returned to my true self.

I wondered what Sandburg was learning on his spirit walks. Did he see a black jaguar pacing him? Or a half-hidden figure following him that he would know for a sentinel?

I'd been as careful as I could be while my senses reverted to their natural state. I'd had some spikes, but luckily no zones, while Blair did his latest research with this new village. I'd met some of these folks during times when the various communities would gather together to trade and celebrate holidays. The people here had a lot of relatives in my village, so the two communities were very friendly with each other.

Blair was a favorite of the children, and he was endlessly patient with their insatiable curiosity about his hair. They loved to clamber up on his lap and twine his curls around their fingers.

I could understand the impulse.

After he'd left the latest village and returned to town, we'd had another trip together. I'd had to go back on my suppressants, and my body did not like it at all. It really wasn't the best idea health wise to go back and forth like that, but I didn't feel that I had any choice. It was too risky being close enough to touch him, just him and me, as we tramped down paths to see the wonders of Quyllur, or engaged in spirited discussions around a small campfire that was built more for light than any real need for heat.

Sometimes I did touch him. I'd play wrestle his slave out of his hand when it was his turn to cook a meal and he was stalling so that he could document something he'd seen that day. I'd keep it out of his reach, holding him against me as he laughingly stretched to grab it back. I shamelessly used my greater height against him, but he was good with his elbows and sometimes even twisted free enough to jump up and wrap his legs around my waist, his arm crooked around my neck as he pulled down my hand to get his property back.

Sometimes I'd lose my balance when he did that and we'd fall to the ground, him on top of me, grinning, as he'd yank his slave out of my hand. But more often I'd roll him over so that I was on top of him, my body pinning his down, and it was all I could do to not kiss him into dazed compliance and stop him from wiggling under me like a hooked fish.

I learned to love his laughter. If he was guilty and sentenced to being mind-wiped, his laughter would lose that bright edge and become a mindless giggle at best.

I was becoming compromised, and I knew it. But I couldn't show a cold front to Blair, he would pull away again if I did, and I needed to keep him close.

It was for the case, I told myself. _Liar_ , a part of me replied, but I did my best to silence that voice.

///

 

I stretched out our time for our second trip to almost two weeks, then Blair, a regretful tone in his voice, told me that he had to return to town to take care of some business.

He evaded my questions about what kind of business. And why not tell me, I bitterly told myself, since he liked talking about things – lots and lots of things. This felt secretive, and it was the first time that he'd said or done anything that fit in with Banks' suspicions. I felt like a grade A sucker, dazzled by the zest in which Sandburg had shown towards life, and his friendliness, and that god-damn smile of his.

Jack and I would tag-team Sandburg, would follow him to this meeting, and see what we could get in the way of evidence against him.

Damn it. I'd really grown to like him.

///

 

“Banks is coming and he's bringing reinforcements. While you were out looking at pretty flowers--” Jack raised his eyebrows and put a little innuendo on 'looking at pretty flowers.' I gave him a rude hand gesture, and he grinned and slouched just a little more in his comfortable patio chair. “Anyway, Jimbo, as I was saying, Congress buckled down and it looks like ratification really is just around the corner.”

He shook his head ruefully and took another sip of Agrasa. “I'm going to be earning my paycheck wrapping up all my cases. New Rainier is going to be making examples out of the poor dumb crooks still here when the laws become effective, if they step one toe over the line.”

It was a sleepy afternoon, hot and humid, and most folks found things to do in the shade during this part of the day. I'd parted from Sandburg about an hour ago, and Jack and I were catching up with each other out on the covered veranda at his house.

Before we'd separated, Sandburg had told me he had some university business to do for a couple of hours, and when I'd asked him out to dinner, he'd told me he'd be tied up tonight. I was pretty sure he'd be off to his private meeting, since he instead enthusiastically agreed to meet with me tomorrow.

“Sandburg has a meeting, and he's keeping the details to himself. Want to join me on the stake-out? I'll buy the kaffee.” I spoke lightly, but Jack wasn't fooled. He frowned at me and laid a warm hand on my forearm.

“You're getting in too deep, sport. Don't think I haven't noticed that you really like that kid. If you've lost your objectivity I can cover for you, take over the investigation.”

I smiled bitterly at him. “I can do my job, Jack. If he's guilty, I'll be the first one to put the lockers around his wrists. We'll know more after I listen in to his meeting.”

He gave me another long look, then finished off his glass, a few blue drops of liquid pooling at the bottom.

I finished my own drink, and contemplated another, but no. I needed to be sharp for tonight. There was time enough later to get good and drunk if Sandburg turned out to be dirty after all.

///

 

“Jim, this doesn't clear him. You need to remember that.” Jack and I had returned from observing Sandburg for most of the night and early morning, and we were relaxing out on his veranda. At least there was a cool breeze fanning us as we sat together, tossing back one last drink for the evening. I grunted at Jack, acknowledging his point, trying to keep from grinning at how the evening had turned out. Jack rubbed his hands through his hair, tiredly, and stifled a yawn. He gave me a concerned look.

“I checked out Naomi Sandburg while you were eavesdropping on the two of them. According to the information on my slave, she's still listed as a person of interest in several ongoing cases involving the destruction of records as a protest against the class system. She may be Sandburg's mother, but if Quyllur had agreed to ratification today, then we'd be bound to take her in for questioning.”

“There aren't any charges against him for destruction of government property, and we can't pick him up for just meeting with a person of interest. He's done nothing wrong, according to even Rainier's current laws.”

Jack and I had tailed Sandburg to another town across the continent, where we'd followed him to his meeting at a private home with its own landing area for small birds. Jack and I put down about a half mile away, and I'd seen his mother, tall, beautiful, red-haired, embrace him.

I'd recognized her from the background files Banks had given me. She was an activist, had been since she'd been a teenager, and was known to be passionate about her stand on New Rainier's class divisions. The last known reports of her activities and whereabouts were several years old. She was suspected of destroying genealogy and DNA records during a spate of protests by a radical group that had as its agenda ending the class system.

A bunch of hotheads, all of them. Naomi had paraded her son when he was just a kid at rallies and protests, as her commitment to her ideals. She'd refused to identify his father, which automatically cast him into the bastard class.

How she could do that to her own kid, I just didn't understand. She had closed so many doors to him by her actions. Blair was pulling himself up out of his class, but his mother had deliberately made his life more difficult.

It made me want to dislike her on principles alone, but Blair was so glad to see her that I held off my own judgment of her.

They hugged and laughed and talked so fast to each other that I could see where Blair had learned his verbal skills. Apparently Naomi was swinging through this part of space, safely out of New Rainier's territories, and they'd set up this brief time to re-connect. From the yammering I overheard, she was still very much involved in lobbying for changes, but it sounded like her days of deliberately breaking the law as part of her protest agenda had ended. But she remained steadfast in her belief that what she had done had been justified.

The whole conversation sound like an old one, well used, and brought out of storage whenever they chanced to meet up with each other.

I was a little envious of their close relationship, although from what I overheard their times together were few and far between. My father and brother and I didn't even pretend to be interested in each other's lives, and my father disapproved of my career choices. He'd told me a man of my class could do better than being a soldier and a protector, and that I was a disappointment to him.

I wasn't actually opposed to what Ms. Sandburg proposed. But blowing up buildings to make your point wasn't the way to go about it. Apparently, from Blair's discussion with her, he agreed, and in their spirited discussion he advocated for peaceful demonstrations and working within the law to effect changes.

They ended their political conversation with agreeing to disagree and, with hardly taking time for a new breath of air, were off talking about mutual friends and Blair's progress towards getting his doctorate and what he loved about studying the Sho'nakan people.

They had a late dinner, just the two of them. Apparently this was a safe house and nobody lived there full time. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, they'd hugged each other goodbye. Blair, once he was away from his mother's sight and back in his bird, broke down and cried for a little while.

My arms itched to hold him, and I wanted to comfort him, to tell him that he wasn't alone in the world, that I wouldn't leave him.

But of course, I couldn't do that, and Jack, once we'd hiked back to his bird, handed me a mug of kaffee and stayed quiet. He flew us back, hanging back from Sandburg's bird, and he kept the shields up so that we flew incognito from any tracking devices. Sandburg had done that too, but with my eyesight I'd been able to keep tabs on his flight in and back.

Jack and I were tired, sure, since we hadn't gotten back to Quilla Rumi till a few hours before sunrise, but it takes a guy a while to loosen up enough after a stake out to actually fall asleep.

Jack looked like he'd reached that point, though, and he stood up, stretching a little, then he checked his comm, reading his messages.

He sighed and glanced down at me. “Jim. You haven't said it, so I guess I'll have to bring it up. Sandburg could be selling the Yana plants in order to funnel money to his mother's activist groups. If he thinks he's doing the right thing... well, he wouldn't be the first guy to sacrifice his ethics for what he thinks is a greater good.”

I gave him a slow nod. “It crossed my mind but I have to tell you, Jack, that the longer I spend with him the more I tend to believe we're mistaken about him. Everything that I've seen with my own eyes tells me that he's a good man.”

“Well, you can bring it up with Banks.” Jack gestured with his comm. “He'll be here by the mid-day meal.”

///

 

Banks was just as big a man as I remembered, and his teeth clenched down hard on the cigar that Jack was lighting for him.

He inhaled, held it, and then released the gray smoke in a long exhale, the fragrant aroma hanging in the humid air as we held our council of war under the slowly revolving ceiling fans on the veranda. Seems like that was where we always ended up, when at Jack's house, but it was a comfortable, shady area, and held a good view of the road leading up to the house and the jungle beyond it. I guess the soldier in me would always prefer to be where I could monitor any possible enemy action, and I wasn't fond of surprise visits.

“I've gone over the reports from both of you. Gentlemen, we've got nothing to show for months of work, except more speculation. And the word from Rainier's backstreets is unchanged. Yana is still being distributed, and we _are_ working on forcing a small-timer to roll over and give up more names up the ladder, but these scumbags are careful. They use masks and voice distorters during the buys.”

He scowled at me. “You've found nothing on Sandburg? Hard to believe a bastard cipher is so squeaky clean.”

I sat up straighter, and was aware that Jack was slightly rolling his eyes at me. “No, sir. Not even illegal prostitution, although I've gathered he's been asked to engage in it often enough. Sir, I've dropped broad hints that I'm available--” Jack's slight eye-roll progressed to a serious one at my statement and I lightly kicked him under the table. He winced, but quit with the facial gyrations. “Uh, available to facilitate any smuggling, that I have connections he could use. He's never taken the bait, but will steer the conversation around to bullshit philosophy instead. He tends to lecture, in a roundabout way, about making changes in one's life, that it's never too late to stop and evaluate what path in life you're on, and that karma can always be added to, no matter what past mistakes a person has made. Crap like that.”

Jack threw in his two credits worth. “Cap'n, sounds to me like he's trying to save Jim here from a life of crime. I think it's sweet.”

I glared at Jack, but he just shot me a blinding grin. The smug son-of-a-bitch.

Banks out-glared me and Jack quit teasing.

I finished the kaffee that was in my mug, and Jack polished off his sandwich.

Banks smoked his cigar, obviously thinking, and when half the cigar had gone to ash he said, a little grimly, “We're going to sweeten the pot, see if we can't get him to ante up. My gut tells me that he's involved; the timing of distribution of Yana just fits too well with his return visits to New Rainier for me to dismiss him. I've seen the numbers, talked to our statisticians. And Jim, you're going to introduce me to your little paragon of virtue. Short of entrapment, we'll see if his halo loses some of that shine you think it has when he's looking at a chance to make serious money. His current connection must not be paying him what he's worth, or he wouldn't be living like you've described.”

“Or else he's really good at hiding it,” Jack added. “I've had access to bank accounts here for some of my other cases, and I've kept an eye out for any money Sandburg might be squirreling away. So far, I haven't found squat on his finances.”

“I'm meeting him for dinner in a couple of hours. And sir, I'll lay one hundred credits on the line that he's not involved in this Yana business.” Banks waved off my offer, but Jack spoke up.

“I'll take that bet. I've looked over the numbers, too, and Jim, I don't believe in coincidences. There's some connection here; we just haven't found it yet.”

Banks glowered at both of us. “Knock it off. Jack, I want a report on your other cases. Ellison, work out a cover story for me because I'm going with you when you see him tonight. I want to dazzle this kid, but not actually entrap him. The D.A. would have my balls if we mucked up this case. What time are you meeting him?”

I left then, to do some ground work for tonight. I was meeting Blair at eight, back at the little bar I'd first had dinner with him. I wished that Banks wasn't coming, that Blair and I could just meet as friends.

Wishes weren't worth anything, though. And I needed to remember that Blair was not my friend.

But I wished he could be.

///

 

Blair was perched on the stone wall by the bar once again – apparently that was a favorite spot of his – and comfortably dressed in lightweight blue-green trousers that captured the color of the nearby sea. His loose cream colored shirt seemed pretty worn to my eyes, but probably would pass muster to non-sentinel eyes. He'd piled on the bracelets, and earrings glinted through the mess of curls that framed his pretty face.

He looked young and harmless and kind of adorable, and I glanced at Banks, wondering if he had the same impression as me. Well, the harmless and young part, anyway.

Banks was looking him over with narrowed eyes, Blair oblivious to our approach because he had his eyes closed and was listening to music coming from the tavern, fingers moving against his leg in time to the beat.

Deja vu. He'd been doing the same thing the first time I'd spotted him.

We stopped in front of him and I covered his dancing fingers with my hand, stilling them.

He opened his eyes and a smile lit up his face.

“Jim! Hey, thanks for the invite. It's good to see you again, man.”

It had been less than two days since we'd parted but his warm greeting sent urgent messages down to my groin. Yeah. My dick was glad to see him again, too.

Banks crowded in and I stepped back, as my captain introduced himself as a 'businessman.' He mentioned I did some work for him, and that Sandburg's name had been brought up and that he might be able to throw some employment his way.

The emphasis on how he phrased 'employment' and 'work' would have made it clear to a moron what kind of business Banks ran, and Blair was far from being a moron.

Blair swallowed hard and bit his lip while his eyes glanced up and down Bank's tall form. Then he said, brightly, “Uh, Jim, you know I kind of forgot that I need to meet with somebody pretty soon. Maybe it'd be best if you and your boss ate without me, and I'll catch up with you later.”

He used his hands to push himself off the wall, but before he could make his escape with a wave and smile, Banks had him by the arm.

“Oh, no, Mr. Sandburg. I won't hear of you leaving yet. Why, I think once you hear what I'm proposing that you'll find it to your advantage to join my operation. Of course, dinner is on me.”

He fingered Blair's shirt, and said, in a silky tone of voice, “I suspect this is one of your good shirts, correct?” He didn't wait for an answer, but by the flash in Blair's eyes, I could see that it was true, and he'd caught the disdain Banks was projecting about the quality of Blair's clothes.

I could smell fear and anger roiling off Blair, but he kept his face composed.

“I suppose you're going to tell me that you'll buy me better ones, in return for my 'cooperation.' Man, I don't know what Jim told you, but I'm not a cash-boy. I'm just a grad student, and yeah, I'm broke but I'm not so down that I need to sell my ass. So, I don't think we do have any business to discuss, after all.”

He gave me a look of disappointment and freed his arm, attempting to move around Banks.

Banks blocked him and snatched his wrist, turning it so that his tattoo was visible.

“You like being stuck as a bastard cipher, boy? I can offer you a way out. Don't be so quick to assume, either.” He gave Blair's ass a swift caress. “I can see that you're a cute piece of change, but I'll pass. You're not my type.”

Blair's eyes flew to me again, and Banks laughed, genuinely amused, I thought. “Jim's not my type, either. Now let's go inside. I'll explain what I want with you after we eat. And I won't hear of you leaving us until after dessert, Sandburg.” He narrowed his eyes at Blair, and Blair shot a desperate glance at me for help, guidance, rescue – and when I didn't provide it, he slumped a little and allowed Banks to escort him into the bar.

So far, so good. Blair hadn't jumped at the initial opportunity to ally himself with Banks. I could only hope that he would turn down Banks' proposal for him to supply and transport the Yana plants to New Rainier. Banks had to be careful not to directly ask him to do it, but imply that if he was involved in the biz, that he just was given a much better offer.

I followed them into the bar, heading towards the back corner where our conversation would be private and not drowned out by the musicians playing the lively songs that Blair had been enjoying before we showed up.

He wasn't enjoying himself now, judging by the hurt look of betrayal he shot me, as Banks halfway pushed him into a booth, and then slid in next to him.

Banks is a big man, and I knew what he was doing. He was using his size to intimidate Blair. I didn't like it, and I kept my hands curled into fists to keep them from yanking Blair away from Banks.

But I couldn't give in to those impulses. Blair was being tested; I had agreed to this action and now I had to let it run its course.

And hope like hell that the integrity I had laid good money on would hold up in the face of temptation.

 

///

 

Jack, who was leaning against a post, gave me an inquiring look , then glanced at Banks when we joined him on the veranda.

“I see it went well. I'll get the Agrasa.” He busied himself with playing host, grabbing glasses and the booze and set it down in easy reach.

Banks and I had dropped into the porch chairs while Jack had gotten the supplies, but I wasn't eager to talk, and apparently Banks wasn't either.

I'd just drunk down half of my glass when Jack broke the silence.

“Well, fill me in. Did he take the bait?” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“No,” I said, at the same time as Banks replied, “Maybe.”

“Sweet shooting stars, I'm glad you two could clear that up for me,” Jack shot at us.

Banks gave him what I was starting to realize was kind of a trademark glower, but Jack, smart ass that he is, apparently was immune to it.

Banks blew out his breath tiredly. “I played hardball with him, up to a point. I insinuated that I knew what he's been up to, and that he'd go up a couple of pay grades if he threw in with me.”

I sat down my glass. “He didn't know what in the five layers of perdition you were talking about, sir. He just said that stuff at the end to try and appease you. I'm guessing that he thought you were probably going to beat him to a pulp if he outright refused you and told you to get stuffed.”

Banks gave me the glower now, but I was developing my own immunity. Banks had been too quiet on the walk back to Jack's place for me not to have picked up that meeting Sandburg had disturbed him.

“That's why I said 'maybe.' Maybe he's clean and he said he'd consider the offer and get back to me for self protection, and maybe he really is going to consider it.”

I shook my head. “He's a pretty good actor, but I had my senses trained on him, and I don't think he's guilty. You just scared the crap out of him, sir, and since he thinks I threw him to the wolves...” I picked up my glass and tipped it at Banks, then added, “he was just trying to get out of there in one piece.”

“You're not using your suppressants?” Banks sat up from the slouch he'd allowed himself to fall into. “Ellison, are you getting guide vibes from him?”

“It's under control, sir. Bonding with any guide, let alone Sandburg, is out of the question for me. I'll be going back on my meds again soon, anyway. Using my enhanced senses for some of the surveillance was necessary, but I'm not planning on keeping them at this level.”

“You're not a certified sentinel. Your word that Sandburg was confused by me telling him I knew what he was involved in isn't enough to drop him from the investigation. Besides, you're really not trained enough to have that much conviction that he's in the dark about Yana. He could be playing you.”

“So, he's still on the short list for suspects?” Jack asked.

“Yes.” Banks gazed at me with some sympathy. “Although I will say that I hope we're wrong about him. If he's on the level, then he seems like a nice kid. Jim's meeting with him tomorrow, and we'll know more then.”

“What's this meeting about? Or is Jim just taking him out for a date? String him along to keep tabs on him?” Jack asked, no hint of teasing in his voice.

“I'm planning out my next jungle trip. And Blair isn't dating or having sex with anybody right now. He's agreed to celibacy in order to be purified for some of the shamanic rites he's being taught.” I stood up. “I'm calling it a night. I'll report back after meeting with Sandburg in the morning.”

But I didn't meet with him the next day. We'd spooked our quarry and he'd disappeared in the night. And he stayed gone.

So we were left in a quandary about Sandburg's alleged involvement in the Yana trade. That is, until a lucky tip resulted in my arresting him, caught with a cargo hold full of Yana plants, on his way to New Rainier.

 

///


	2. Part Two

The ship Banks and his men had come to Quyllur in was functioning as the incarceration center and local MIC office, as well as housing all the New Rainier officials who would be taking over Quyllur's former government.

It was a busy, bustling place because we were snowed under from all the arrests made during those golden three days when the ratification had passed in a closed door session, but before it was announced to the public. That news was kept quiet so that we could clean out the vermin that were still hanging around, trying until the last minute to complete as many deals as they could before escaping to a new border planet.

And like the rats they were, they found themselves trapped, and Jack had the satisfaction of seeing his cases being closed.

My case was closed too, but it hadn't brought me any satisfaction when I'd arrested Sandburg, twisting his arms behind his back and putting the lockers on his wrists.

He'd almost gotten away with it, too. The deceitful little shit. At first when we'd boarded his bird, stopped in flight by sending the over-ride code to kill his engine when we'd approached him, he'd acted like we were there to rescue him, instead of being there to bring him into custody. He'd blurted out a wild story of being hijacked and forced to fly his bird for his kidnappers, and almost getting away in an emergency pod before being picked up again. He insisted that he'd sent a coded, secret plea for help while he was in that pod, and that he was glad his plan had worked, taking credit for the tip that had allowed us to locate him. I figured that what had actually happened was he'd listened in to space chatter from me to MIC and heard I was following up on an anonymous tip. Sandburg was quick, and he'd seen the advantage of claiming he'd contacted the protectors before we had caught up to him.

The kidnappers – a girl, her brother, and another man -- had transferred to their own bird, taking the majority of the plants with them, he had claimed. His ship had had a course locked in to New Rainier – by his kidnappers he told me – that he couldn't alter, and they'd blocked him out of communications and being able to engage the tessar roll-through.

He knew just where the plants were hidden on his ship, though, and with the discovery of that evidence, which he had willingly showed me, I arrested him. I ignored him when he kept insisting he was innocent, and I just wanted him to stop trying to bullshit me by explaining again how he was the victim in this crime.   
God in all of its faces. I'd had enough.

I swung him into a wall and pinned him with my body, my lips close enough to his ear to lick the sweet shell of it.

“Shut up until you talk to a lawyer,” I whispered, already disgusted with myself for still wanting to protect him. He was guilty, but here I was trying to keep him from digging himself in any deeper. I needed to clear myself of his influence, and I decided that as soon as I could, I would go and talk to Incacha. His wisdom always helped me come to terms with what life threw at me. Blair was helpless held against me, his hands imprisoned behind him. His eyes were wide, and for the first time he seemed to get it, that this wasn't something he could just talk his way out of, that this wasn't a misunderstanding that his babble could clear up.

For the first time since we'd boarded his bird and found him frantically trying to get the controls to work for him, he looked scared, not annoyed and frustrated and angry.

I took him to the booking center personally. I watched as his DNA was sampled, compared to his tattooed code and to New Rainier's records. I saw him stripped of his clothes, dispassionately observed the body cavity search, stared hard at him as he slowly dressed in incarceration clothing, a diagonally striped loose shirt and pants that hung on his small frame. He never said a word the entire time.

Jack and Banks each took several turns at grilling him over the next few days, but he kept his mouth shut. Just like I had told him to.

Banks had gazed thoughtfully at me when I gave him a verbal report on Sandburg's arrest. “Ellison, Jack and I will handle Sandburg's interrogation for right now. You work on nailing down his pipeline to New Rainier.”

We checked out the names of the accomplices he'd given us during the first recitation of his woes. They were nowhere to be found on Quyllur, or on New Rainier. Banks was of the opinion that Sandburg was lying about their involvement, that they hadn't even been on Sandburg's bird, that their names were thrown out as a red herring. We added the three of them to the person of interest lists, but it looked like Sandburg was going to take this one all by himself.   
More corroborating evidence from New Rainier was found, now that we had caught Sandburg red-handed and was able to obtain warrants to investigate his finances.

Two points were damning him from the New Rainier evidence. The first was that another eye witness had been found, and this one identified Sandburg's holo as being the person who had entered the residence of a dealer who had been busted for selling Yana on the street.

The second was that a bank account funneling money to Naomi Sandburg's activist group was traced back to Sandburg. And he had absolutely no way to have legitimately earned any of that money. It was some serious cash that a broke grad student never would have access to. Not legally.

Pretty much all the pieces of the puzzle were in place now. The DA was anxious to bring him to court, to make him an example and appease the powers that be that the source of the Yana trade had been dealt a mortal blow. Banks was ready to tear off Sandburg's head, the more so for having felt some sympathy for him the night of the dinner.

That pretty much just left Jack to play good protector. I was cast as bad protector, and Banks was really, really angry protector.

I watched from the observation room when Blair was questioned -- that scared look never left his eyes. I wondered if he'd ever really thought through the consequences of his actions before he chose to become a drug runner. His body language was telling me that he was in shock over finding himself in custody. Somehow, that didn't jibe very well with the man I had spent weeks observing. Why was this outcome such a surprise to him? He was intelligent. Why hadn't he taken getting caught under consideration? Why didn't he have a hot shot lawyer on retainer, ready to come to his aid? Why did it take a detective's warning to make him aware of the dangers of running his mouth freely, like he had been doing on his bird?

It made me feel twitchy. Banks didn't ask me to take my turn at wearing Sandburg down, and I didn't offer. Instead, I helped Jack with his overflowing cases. Anyway, we were stalled on my case until the free lawyer Sandburg was entitled to arrived.

///

 

I was busy in interrogation room three, grilling a suspect from one of the smuggling cases when I got a heads up on my comm from Jack.

“Sandburg's lawyer has finally shown up. She's in talking with the kid now. Maybe she can get Sandburg to agree to name his Rainier contacts in exchange for a lesser sentence, and to change that bullshit story he told us, before he decided he'd better clam up.”

His lawyer didn't spend but twenty minutes with him, then came out of the privacy room, leaving Sandburg still in lockers attached to the desk, shaking her head.

She introduced herself as Public Defender Estrella Maguire, then asked to talk to me and Captain Banks privately. We went to Banks' office, and he offered PD Maguire kaffee, telling her it was from his own supply, and thus drinkable, not like the swill usually served on the ship.

She took a sip, and gave Banks an appreciative look.

“Thank you, Captain Banks. I've been assigned to quite a few of your recent detainees, but I don't think that Mr. Sandburg's case will cause any delay in justice being served.

I frowned. She didn't exactly sound like she was working too hard on Blair's case.

Simon frowned. “Are you offering a plea bargain? Because if you are then we need to get the prosecution's attorney in here.”

“No. Mr. Sandburg is holding onto the absurd notion that he is innocent, and he won't budge on admitting his guilt. I plan to mention his background and his youth -- perhaps it will sway a judge into giving him a lighter sentence, but frankly, I doubt it. He's looking at twenty-five to thirty -five years of community service and a high level mind-wipe. He'll retain enough intelligence to be able to comprehend simple directions, both written and verbal. He won't be able to form relationships, and they'll make sure to neutralize him sexually so that he won't bother others. He'll just live in his own small world, and when his term of punishment is up, he'll be given the choice to continue to work at his placement, or to go to another placement. Well, some ex-prisoners try to live on their own, but they are rarely successful, and the authorities will probably step in and grant guardianship to either a private individual or require him to stay at a placement. He'll be put to work at one of the factories or farms to pay for what's he's done to the citizens of New Rainier.”

She smiled at us, well pleased to share Sandburg's future with us.

I cleared my throat, catching her attention. “If he coughs up some names, his contacts at New Rainier, will that lighten his sentence, make his mind-wipe not permanent?”

I didn't even know why I was asking that. His mind-wipe wouldn't be like mine had been, a light touch that had altered my brain but left me fully functioning except for memory. Even so, if I hadn't been found when I had, mine would have become permanent. Blair's bright mind, forever dimmed like that... I knew he'd fucked up, he'd hurt many, many people, but he'd been misguided, wanted the drug money to help his mother in her quest to stop the class barriers. Let him serve his time, but let his mind stay unaltered.

Maguire gave me a strange look, head slightly tilted as if I was some kind of oddity. “I assure you, Detective, that I've already explained to Mr. Sandburg what not cooperating will mean. His charges are serious, and I know the judge who will hear his case. She is most unsympathetic to lawbreakers, but if Mr. Sandburg divulges everything he knows, names, places, all of his contacts in this dirty business, and shows true repentance at his trial, his sentence could be reduced to perhaps twenty years.”

“What about the mind-wipe? Can that be taken off the table?”

She gave me that look again. “No. He will be wiped clean of the past, and it will be for the best. He won't care that he has a long sentence to serve. He'll barely be able to understand that twenty-five hours equals a day.”

Banks spoke. “He fooled you, Ellison. We've got him dead to rights, and he's going to pay now. I think it best I take you off this case, except for your testimony at court as the arresting officer.”

He turned to Sandburg's so-called lawyer. “We need those names. Are you going to instruct him to fully cooperate with us now, because he's zipped his lips since he was actually arrested.”

She nodded. “I've done so, and since he won't admit to guilt, I've told him to relate to the officers questioning him what his version is. Perhaps you can glean something from that. I won't be there, though. I need to talk to...” She consulted her slave, and continued, “To talk to Mr. Jameson. Could you arrange that, please, Captain.”

It was like I wasn't even in the room anymore. She'd dismissed me, apparently because I'd asked some questions that favored Sandburg not getting the most severe deal available.

This wasn't right. I knew now that he was a criminal, but even so, he at least deserved a lawyer that would take his case seriously. Maguire wasn't making even the least bit of effort to represent his interests.

It pissed me off. I'd never liked it when someone was blatantly treated unfairly, and I wondered how much of Maguire's attitude was because Blair was a bastard.

Banks had relieved me from the case, and I knew from his perspective that was a necessary call because, yeah, I had lost my objectivity. Sandburg had made me so angry when I realized he was guilty as sin, hell, I still was madder than I ever remembered being before about anything, including how I felt about the son-of-a-bitch who'd betrayed my unit and dumped me in the jungle, sans memory.

And yet, I couldn't help but feel dismayed about the treatment he was getting. And sick at heart thinking about him being mind-wiped to the point that he could barely even wipe his own ass.

“Captain, I'd still like to observe Sandburg's questioning.” All right, I didn't have the most respectful tone when I gritted those words out, and Banks gave me a sharp look over the head of Sandburg's shyster of a lawyer.

“Permission denied. Jim. I'm ordering you to take five days down time. And by that I mean down on the planet. Do I make myself clear, detective?”

“Yes, sir.” Furious, I damn near saluted before I turned and strode out of his office.

I was already looking through my slave as I headed for the shuttle bay. When I found the name I wanted, I commed him as soon as I had privacy, piloting myself back to Jack's house.

“Mickey? Jim Ellison... Yeah, it has been a while. Say, remember that favor you said you owed me? Well, sport, I'm calling my marker in. There's a public defender case that I'd like you to take over. The name's Blair Sandburg, he's being held on the Pride of Cascade, in orbit around Quyllur. Mickey, he needs a good lawyer, and you're the best one I know. Bill me whatever it costs, just see what you can do for him... Okay.  
Thanks pal.”

Sandburg was going down, there was no hope of him not being convicted, but maybe Mickey could get the mind-wipe taken off the sentence, or at least have it be reversible. Yeah. Probably not possible, since a mind-wipe had to be reversed before two years or so. Sandburg's sentence would surely be much longer than two years.

Maybe I was losing my mind. I know Banks thought I was nuts.

I had five days of mandatory downtime. Remembering my earlier thoughts, I decided it was time to seek out the person who could best advise me. I would go to Incacha.

///

 

“You are troubled, my friend.” Incacha stepped back from my embrace and studied my face.

“I am. I came to talk to you about it.” Incacha acknowledged my statement, and motioned for me to follow him as he walked to the small campfire near his dwelling.

“Sit, Enqueri. Clear your mind, as I have taught you, and when all is calm within then speak.”

I closed my eyes, and altered my breathing until the slow rise and fall of my chest was peaceful and steady.

I told him everything. How I'd been assigned to trap my quarry, how I'd gotten close to him, the better to see the flaws that must be there for him to engage in bringing soul-death to those who took Yana. How I'd reluctantly grown to feel a connection with him, to like him. The betrayal I felt when he was found to be as guilty as we had supposed him to be. That he must have done what he did under the illusion that he was doing good of a sort, and that the thought of his punishment was like a knife twisting in my heart.

Finally, I stopped, and stared at the tattoo on the back of my hand. My code – and in order to live in a class free society, where a person's hands didn't have to proclaim how high or how low he or she were in the world, Blair had sacrificed himself. A futile attempt – even if the laws were changed, people like my father would never give up their cherished notions of their superiority. Why hadn't Blair seen that? Why had he taken the risks that he had?

The reckoning that was due was too high, but he was responsible for _Yana_. There were deaths on his hands, and broken lives. It was fair that he pay, so why was I feeling so sick about it. Why had I agreed to spend credits for another lawyer?

Banks was right to pull me off this case.

Incacha rose and laid his hand on the back of my neck for a long moment. Then he went into his dwelling and returned with a concoction that he added to a small pot of water and placed over the fire to be heated. I stayed quiet, but the calm I had gained was gone, and in my mind tumbled flash-holos of Sandburg laughing, working diligently to record observations, being patient with the children who pestered him with questions, and then how he had looked when he realized I despised him.

When the pot was steaming, Incacha poured it into a container and handed it to me.

“Drink this, and rest now, Enqueri. Dream true dreams and do not block what the spirits send you. You have much to consider. Sleep within my dwelling, and I will keep watch over you.”

I rose and took my leave for a short time, to ready my body for the night's journey into a different way of seeing, for in accepting what Incacha, as the shaman of my people, had prepared, I had agreed to spirit walk this night. And for me, the path was easiest to find from dreams.

///

 

I dreamed of Sandburg. Not surprising since he'd been on my mind so much. I dreamed of him naked in the harsh light of the detention processing center, looking small as he submitted to being bent over for the guard to check for contraband, and then the dream jumped to a happier memory. I remembered how he'd looked standing under a small waterfall, while we were camping together. He hadn't known that I'd watched him undress and use Habun leaves to scrub himself clean, the plant producing a thin green-tinted lather that he'd spread over his skin and worked through his hair.

Then the light in the jungle darkened till it was a dark blue hue, and Blair, wet, clean, and still naked had looked my way, and the foliage that I had counted on to hide me from his view seemed to shrink until I stood there clearly visible to him.

His eyes met mine, and I knew I had entered the spirit plane.

“Enqueri. Why do you seek me?” He spoke in the tongue of my people, but we had never conversed in it. He didn't know my story, didn't know I had been adopted, and I had never told Blair my Sho'nakan name.

He looked away from me then, and when he returned to the bank he started to walk away, ignoring me. But vines reached up and twined around his ankles and then continued up his body, twisting around his waist and engulfing his wrists, pulling them tightly together.

Wordlessly he struggled against his restraints, but he was held fast.

I approached him, as carefully as if he had been one of the giant serpents who could unexpectedly drop from the trees and land in your path.

“Why are you my enemy, Enqueri? This imprisonment is of your doing, and I wish I had never met you.” He sounded sorrowful, rather than angry, and his reproach sparked an answering anger in me.

I stepped up next to him, and he had to raise his head to meet my eyes. I reached out, and took his face in my hands holding him still. He ceased moving against the vines, and slowly licked his lips, his eyes still locked with mine.

“Sorcerer. You can no longer hide your true self, and offering yourself to me will not stop your punishment for the evil you have caused. Enlighten me why you walk this path, for to have been chosen for the way of the shaman you do carry power within you. Why do you abuse it? Is it for revenge against those who have disdained you, have prevented you from obtaining all that your talents should have gained you?” I spat these words at him, but he looked confused and hurt.

“It is true that I chose the way of the shaman, but I am hardly skilled in it. I see you here, while my body lies in a trance elsewhere. But why do you accuse me of doing evil? I have not. I seek to retain the balance of life; I do not practice enchantment, and I have not knowingly done anyone harm. What is it you say I am guilty of doing? If I have transgressed then I will make amends.” His pretense of ignorance angered me more, and I slid my hands to his shoulders and shook him.

“You know; do not try and act the innocent. I found you hiding the plants that you were carrying to New Rainier to alter into soul-death for the unwary ones who seek to take it into their bodies, hoping for new knowledge or momentary peace from the ills of their lives. You do deserve punishment, although I would temper that with some small mercy, in the hopes that you could repent. You used the credits you made from destroying your victims for a justification you believed in, and I do not say you are wrong to want an end to the class system. But you were misguided and made your choice to break the law and caused great harm; now you must pay the consequences for that decision. But not to the extent you were told; there is a chance you might not lose everything.”

He stared at me intently, and I resolved to not allow myself to be swayed by his words.

“Enqueri, I swear to you on everything I believe that I have not done what I am accused of doing. I told you the truth when you captured me. I did not lie to you. I was tricked, the plants were not mine. It is true that I have taken samples with me, but for study only. I would not pervert the holy plants in the way you have charged me. But no one believes me, and I will not be found blameless, I am told. I will not submit myself to life as a mindless drudge. And if even you, who I had hopes of... well, it does not matter now. I will cast my soul back to its creator and if ever I return to the physical world I will hope for a better life than what I would have been condemned to by your laws.”

He closed his eyes and his form shifted to that of a gray wolf, not overly large, which still had Blair's intelligent blue eyes. The vines were no longer able to restrain him and with a final look at me he bounded away, running, running through the jungle.

I felt paralyzed. Blair wanted to end his life, that was what all that talk about casting his soul away had been about. He was in training to be a shaman, and suddenly I had no doubt that he could make himself die. His body would never awaken from the trance he had placed himself in back on The Pride of Cascade. And who would mourn him? His mother, yes, and the casual friends he'd made would miss his laughing ways and company in bed. The shamans he'd studied with would regret losing their apprentice, but he was not Sho'nakan, he had not been made a member of any tribe. He had no one else, no true friend, no intimate lover that would ever know how special he truly was.

Not like I knew he was, and with a sudden resolve I cast aside my doubts and despite all the evidence against him, I believed him. He could not have done that evil, and I would clear his name. If he lived.

I sharpened my gaze; he was still running hard, and it came to me with the force of a blow that I could not let him die. I would not allow it, I would stop him from this course of action.

I dropped to all fours and bounded after him in great leaps, in the large and powerful form of my spirit animal. The wolf was swift, but my jaguar-self was swifter. I ran, fear for him pounding through me. There was a glow in the distance, and I knew it was the pathway from this plane to one that no one alive could travel.

Blair was perilously close to it when I leaped on him, and I forced my soul to bind to his in a glorious blinding flash of incandescence.

We returned to our human forms, me on top of him, and he looked at me with such bewilderment again. I kissed him, and not sweetly. I claimed his mouth like I had claimed his soul. He let me, made no protest, but did not claim me back. No matter. He was mine now, and bound to me and this world. He could not leave it for death, not willingly, as he had tried to do. And if another should take his life, then I would follow, as he would follow me when my days ended.

He closed his eyes then, and tears slipped down his face. I kissed each one away.

“Enqueri, what have you done?” he said finally, and I stood, pulling him up afterward till he stood in the circle of my arms.

“I could not let you go, Blair. You are safe now, you are bound to me and I am your anchor to this world.”

He shoved away from me, and I loosened my arms so he could step back. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and gazed wildly at me.

“You have condemned me to a living hell, is what you have done. I will be found guilty, so my lawyer has said, and I will become a mindless slave. You have blocked my escape from that fate, but you do not totally control me, Enqueri. I choose of my own will to leave here, and I hope never to see you again.”

He faded away before my eyes.

There was nothing more for me to learn or experience and I closed my eyes and willed myself away from the blue tinged jungle. I felt normal sleep overtake me, and I passed into dreamless sleep.

///

 

I spent the next morning with Incacha, relating to him all that had occurred during my sojourn on the spirit plane.

He didn't like what I had done.

“Reckless, Enqueri. You have bound your soul to this man, you will die within hours of each other, and no matter the distance between you, you will always feel an echo of his pain, and he yours.”

He wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. I could feel Blair's despair, faint but tangible, like an old injury that twinges when there is a storm coming.

And there was a storm approaching. Blair would be going to court within a week, and at trial, without evidence in his favor, he would be sentenced and sent to one of New Rainier's placement factories or farms.

The first thing that Mickey, as Blair's lawyer, needed to do was to ask for a continuance. The longer it took for Blair to come to trial, the more time I would have to clear him.

I needed to contact Jack. Officially, he would not be allowed to fill me in on the investigation, since Banks had kicked me out, but Jack was a good guy; I thought he'd look the other way if I hinted at what I wanted.

Mickey would arrive at the Pride of Cascade tomorrow. I'd comm him today, explain that I did believe Blair innocent of the charges.

Somebody had gone to a lot of trouble to set him up, and they'd covered their tracks pretty well. I'd let Mickey know that it would be favorable for Blair to have a truth-test conducted. It should bring Blair some credibility, and Mickey could witness it himself. The prosecution wouldn't bother with one, since all their evidence clearly showed Blair as guilty.

I hoped that Blair could feel my determination to clear his name. And I wasn't sorry that I had bonded our souls together.

I told Incacha that I did not regret my actions. He gave me a severe look, and then offered me a cup of tea. We sat in front of his dwelling, me poking a stick at the small fire, and he bade me to tell him again what Blair and I had done and spoken of when we'd met in the spirit plane.

I told him once more of our meeting, the spirit animals, my desperate race to save him, and how I just knew what to do to tie our souls together. He would stop me occasionally and ask a question. He gazed into the fire when I was done; I finished my tea, now considerably cooled, and no better tasting then when it had been steaming. When the shaman of your people tells you to drink something he's prepared to aid you recover from spirit walking, well then, you tell your taste buds to shut up and you drink it. With an effort I kept from making a face at the bitter taste.

Incacha steepled his fingers, and raised his eyebrows at me.

“To do what you did, when you are untrained... Enqueri, your Blair must be a guide.”

I nodded. And had an unpleasant thought. “He is a guide. Does the soul-connection we have mean we're bonded now as sentinel and guide?”

Incacha shook his head. “No. You might have made this tie if you had first bonded as sentinel and guide, but perhaps not. Most do not reach this level of soul-mates. Enqueri, you claimed him, he did not claim you. To truly reach the highest level of bonding, he must want this tie between you.”

I grimaced. Right now, Blair didn't want to even look at me, let alone reforge our soul-connection as equals.

Besides, I didn't know if Blair would want to be a guide. I knew I didn't want to have to depend on him to control my senses. The meds I took insured that I didn't have to bond with any guide, and that was still just fine with me.

The plan was to clear Blair's name. If he wanted to forgive me for not letting him die – and he damn well better do that – then I'd love to take him to bed. Lovers I could see us being. Lovers who had this weird connection for the rest of our lives, even if we broke off our relationship later. As for dying almost at the same time some time in the future – shit, it beat Blair dying for sure last night.

But to be sentinel and guide would mean almost daily contact, and we would have to forge a physical bond with each other. There were hormones and glands and altered brain waves and the development of psi powers that would be a huge pain in the ass. Most of all, we'd be so incredibly co-dependent on each other that there was no chance of living a normal life ever again.

So. Clear Blair's name. Maybe some fucking, for gratitude or even love. Live with this connection we had for the rest of our lives. Skip the sentinel and guide bonding.

I hoped we could stay friends. I genuinely liked the guy, but I also liked my privacy and space.

No. Not a chance in perdition that I would take him as a guide.

///

It was well past dusk when I returned to Jack's house. I was acutely aware that time was ticking away for Blair, and that I needed more information to start my investigation over again. He'd babbled when I'd arrested him about a girl and her brother and another man, that they were responsible for the plants being on his ship, not him, but nothing was corroborated when we'd looked into it. The consensus was that Sandburg had been lying, and that he'd thrown out the names and descriptions as a decoy to prevent his own arrest.

Jack would have interviewed him again, after his lawyer told him to spill his guts. I wanted copies of any interrogations Jack or Banks had run on him. I had to start somewhere to clear him, and since I did believe him I wouldn't dismiss what he'd said as so much space waste.

So, after talking defense strategy with Mickey, I commed Jack.

“Jimbo. I hope you're enjoying the time off. Drink some Agrasa, and take a nap in my hammock in my honor, okay?” Translation: you son-of-a-space-whore, I'm working my ass off up here and you're enjoying the easy life. Screw you.

“Jack, did you interrogate Sandburg again?”

“You could call it that. We didn't really learn anything new. He swears he doesn't have any New Rainier contacts and that he was duped into carrying the plants. The names he gave us didn't check out, either. Simon took a crack at him, but I gotta admit the kid was tougher than I thought he'd be. I would have thought he'd have pissed himself, the way Simon was giving him grief, but he just kind of went blank. Annoyed the crap out of our captain, I can tell you that.”

He sighed. “Jim, I think you should know that the kid almost died. I had finished interrogating him again and had left him to stew for a while. I took a whack at one of my other goons and when I came back to go for round two with Sandburg, he was in a trance. And I mean really deep in a trance. I couldn't break him out of it, and I called for medical. We got him hooked up to check out his brainwaves, and I've got to tell you, I've never seen Theta waves like that before. And then he just stopped breathing and his heart stopped. The doc was going to shock him, when suddenly he began breathing again and he had a pulse. He opened his eyes and he started in on you, old buddy. Seems he thinks that you stopped him from dying, and he wasn't happy about it. I mentioned that Sandburg did shaman stuff, because I've never seen anybody meditate so deep like that before, and the doc said he wasn't taking any chances. He's got Sandburg set up on an electric shocker around his neck. If he tries for Theta waves, he gets zapped, and it stops him from falling into a trance. So... was Sandburg just out of his head? About you?”

“I, uh, I did something to him. He can't just trance himself to death anymore. I'll explain sometime, okay. You, me, and a lot of alcohol. Is he on suicide watch?”

“Yeah. Oh, I hear that he's getting another lawyer tomorrow. One that ain't a public defender. You know something about that, too?”

“Look, Jack. I believe him. I think he's being used as a patsy by somebody pretty damn smart. His lawyer's going to demand a truth-test. Will you do me a favor and see that he's not blocked on the request?”

“Jim. Buddy. I told you that you were in too deep.” He spoke lightly, but it didn't hide the concern that bled through.

“He's a good kid, and he was set up for a fall. I want copies of the interrogation sessions.”

Jack whistled. “No can do, bucko. Banks would have my balls if I just turned over all the documentation we've got on the kid to you, since you're off the case. I'm just letting you know how it is. Say, I get a break tonight, and I thought I'd sleep in my own bed for a change. But I'm still up to my ass in sorting through paperwork, so I'll probably have to bring some with me to work on. After supper, maybe some take-out from that little place on Beach Street, maybe I'll go for a walk. Take my time, really stretch my legs.”

I grinned. Jack was okay. “Yeah, take your time, and enjoy yourself. And I'll spring for dinner.”

Jack chuckled. “Get me something expensive, would you? I'll be there in two hours.”

The comm went dead. Jack would bring all of Sandburg's files, and while he was out walking, I'd make my copies. And then I'd tear into them.

Blair was miserable. I could feel his emotions in that distant manner, and if I concentrated on him they grew stronger. I tried to send back some comforting feelings, but I got an even more powerful sense of 'fuck you.'

I couldn't seek him out on the spirit plane anymore, not while he wore a shock collar. Too bad. I would have explained to him what was up. So instead, I damped down my sense of him. I'd just make it up to him later, after I'd proved he wasn't the bad guy here.

///

 

I returned to the Pride of Cascade as soon as my five days of exile was up. But I hadn't been idle. I'd pored over the recorded interrogations, reviewed all of Blair's files, and followed up on as much as I could myself on anything that could back up Blair's story, and passed it all along to Jack.

Jack didn't believe Sandburg was innocent; he was humoring me. But he was a conscientious detective and he'd play fair with Sandburg and diligently check out leads that could prove my theory that the kid was set up.

I was counting on the truth-test to shake up the prosecution's case. The test was thorough and well-documented, and Blair could win his case based on it alone. It was expensive, though, and so wasn't used routinely, not when there was other evidence that would tip a case one way or the other.

I didn't care about the cost. Blair, according to Mickey, was willing to take the test, and didn't seem to realize that it wasn't part of the official process of evidence gathering.

The change of lawyers had been filed, and Blair had agreed to let Mickey Renardo represent him. Given that Blair's feelings toward me had come across as increasingly hostile through our bond, I suggested to Mickey that if Blair didn't ask who was paying the bill, that Mickey not volunteer that information.

Mickey didn't outright mislead him, but probably Blair thought the switch in lawyers was through the Public Defenders office. Blair had brightened up when Mickey explained about the truth-test; he'd had some general knowledge about it but didn't know how much weight it had in court testimony. I could feel the hopefulness return to his moods. He was still angry with me, though.

He was scheduled for his court date in two days since the judge had refused to grant a stay of continuance.

A specialist had to be flown in to administer the test, and he was due to be here tomorrow. He would stay to give testimony at Blair's trial, and I planned on being there when he examined Blair. Blair wouldn't realize that I was observing him, though. He'd be so far under from the drugs used that a bomb could go off next to him and he wouldn't know it. The only thing he would be able to respond to was when his brain would be stimulated and the next question asked of him. All of it would be documented by graphs and charts, and the holo of the procedure that would be logged in for evidence.

I was feeling pretty hopeful myself that Blair would be released, but I wasn't wiling to drop my other leads.

The main trouble with getting the evidence to back up Blair's story was that he'd operated in an underground kind of society, where codes weren't checked, names weren't mentioned or were false, and where you didn't ask questions.

Blair had been willing to hang around with me, in my persona as a smuggler and muscle-man. Sure, he hadn't fallen for any of my increasingly unsubtle hints that my professional services were available to him, and he'd downright run away from Banks' fairly blatant offer to him, but just the fact that he'd accepted me and liked me anyway, instead of spurning my company, showed that he was comfortable being with people on the fringe of normal society.

Just look at how he'd been raised. His activist mother had brought him up surrounded by people doing illegal things and who disdained the strictures of society.

It said a lot about him, that he'd been so accomplished with his academics. He'd actually had a pretty good reputation with his university, and had been given teaching assistant status. But things were maybe a little more flexible within the higher education world than they were out in the rest of our society.

I knew that Blair was ethical. That is, I'd made the leap of faith required to believe it, in the face of testimony that damned him. But looking over the list of his known acquaintances, aside from his college ones, that Jack and I had compiled and checked out here on Quyllur and even more so back on New Rainier, he'd been buddies with prostitutes, smugglers, bookies, gamblers, and men who were suspected of resurrecting the illegal practice of prize-fighting.

But they were superficial relationships, for the most part. Although he'd been fairly close to a suspected prize-fighter who'd gotten himself killed. The rumors had been that the two of them had been lovers. Apparently Blair had been distraught enough over the fighter's death that people noticed.

A lot of these casual 'friendships' were based on trading favors; I'd seen that for myself, the way Blair was comfortable with bartering for his needs.

It made sense that he was more in tune with the underbelly of society. Being in the bastard class meant that he would have been shunned for a lot of personal relationships and overlooked for professional ones. With the kind of prejudice he'd had to deal with his whole life, it was no wonder he'd preferred to stay and do his research on Quyllur. After he was cleared, I suspected it wouldn't have the same appeal to him, now that New Rainier laws had superseded local laws. This free and easy way of life would be altered, and Blair would find that his place here would once again be based on his parentage. The exception to advancement being based on the codes that would be required to be tattooed on every resident's skin would be the indigenous people who still lived in traditional ways. But even if Blair was adopted into a tribe, like I had been, he wouldn't qualify to not have his class held against him.

But there was no sense in speculating about the future. Until he was cleared, he didn't even have a future. And to supplement the truth-test, I needed to find the three people Blair claimed to have been responsible for the Yana plants being on his bird.

Iris, Chance, and Rob.

Blair said in his statement to Jack that he'd met Iris on New Rainier, and she'd bartered a ride back with him in his beat up bird to Quyllur, and in exchange for the lift her brother Rob would do some maintenance work for Blair. Rob was a mechanic, and had a thing for classic birds like Blair's ship.

From some of the wildly funny tales Blair had related while we were together in the jungle, his bird was on the temperamental side and tended to break down fairly often. He was fiercely loyal to his ship, though, and had said he wouldn't consider giving up on her.

His ship had been confiscated as evidence. But nobody had bothered to do a DNA sweep through it, to corroborate Sandburg's story. I had asked Jack to get the tech guys out and check additional evidence, but Banks had deemed it unnecessary. Even if it was shown that Blair had carried passengers aboard his bird, it didn't change the fact that the Yana plants had been found in his ship. He was the owner, he was found with them, and he'd known where they'd been hidden. His ship had been altered at some point to include secret cargo space. Space he'd led me right to.

I'd checked out Rob the mechanic's shop. It was deserted, and I'd done a quick DNA scan. Nothing. The place had been wiped clean by an eradicator, there was no trace of DNA anywhere. Unfortunately, any public records of who owned the place or who had rented it were a bust.

To me, this was additional proof of the truth of Sandburg's story. Somebody who could alter computer records, go to the trouble of using an eradicator, they had something to hide. None of this helped to clear Blair, though. A case could be made that Blair's partners had left him holding the bag, but that didn't mean he wasn't guilty as sin.

As Jack pointed out to me. Repeatedly.

Iris had been the bait, and with Blair's roving eye, it hadn't been hard to get his attention. He hadn't slept with her, though, he'd earnestly explained to Jack. She'd kept him dangling, probably to keep his interest, and then about eight months ago he'd gone celibate as a shaman in training. Their arrangement was for him to call her when he was planning on returning to New Rainier, he'd bring his bird to Rob for a tune-up, and she and her brother would catch a ride with him to New Rainier and then back to Quyllur again.

And yes, after the first time he'd given her a ride to Quyllur, the timing fit into the distribution of Yana.

Chasing down evidence to clear Blair was like chasing a rainbow. As soon as you thought you had something, it was gone. There was no record of Iris' comm number that Blair had given to Jack.

According to Blair's testimony, after Banks had spooked him into dropping off our scanners for several weeks, he had called Iris to tell her he was going back to New Rainier for another trip.

The day Blair'd been arrested, Chance had just barged into Rob's shop, where Blair had taken his bird, waving a weapon around and more than ready to shoot Blair. Blair gathered from the histrionics between Iris and Chance that Iris had dumped her boyfriend's ass, and the guy was sure she would sleep with Blair now. In revenge, he was stealing the plants -- and Blair made sure to mention that this was the first he'd learned about the plants – and taking them to a different go-to-guy. He locked Iris and Rob in a room, made Blair help pack the plants that were hidden at the shop into the cargo space Rob had altered in the bird, and took off with Blair, needing him to pilot since the bird's controls were locked in to Blair's retinal scan and DNA. He left Iris and Rob behind, double-crossed.

On the holos I'd copied from Jack, Blair had recounted a wild tale of Iris and Rob catching up to him and Chance, since while Rob had been refitting the ship, he'd added a kill switch; broadcasting a special code would stop the ship dead in space.

During the infighting, both ships docked together, Blair had taken advantage of all the yelling and screaming at each other, Iris slapping Chance across the face and then her offer for make-up sex to her ex, and he'd gotten away in an emergency pod.

It was from the pod that he'd sent a message about his ship being hijacked and full of contraband. By that time, he'd put two and two together, knowing the psychotropic qualities of what he referred to as the 'sacred plants' and what Iris and Chance let slip about the drug that would be made from them.

Jack had interrupted asking him to explain why he hadn't identified himself on the message. Blair seemed bewildered. He had, he said. But the transmission had been partly broken up and so it was logged as an anonymous tip. A tip that was funneled to me, since the keywords of 'plants being smuggled' flagged it as pertaining to my investigation.

While I had taken a MIC bird up to check it out, Blair's absence was noted, his pod was located, and upon checking the outgoing comm messages, the three of them, once again working with each other in the face of a common enemy, transferred as many of the plants as they dared to Rob's bird, leaving plenty to incriminate Blair. Rob locked in a course to New Rainier, using Blair to initialize it, and set it on delay to allow them to take off. I thought to myself that they'd counted on Blair's arrest to delay the protectors from tracking them down. If I'd believed Blair's babbling when I'd first heard it, I might have found and arrested them.

Son of a bitch.

When I'd caught up to his ship, Blair was unsuccessfully trying to stop it from its New Rainier course. I took care of that with my own kill code, and well, upon boarding arrested Blair.

Blair had looked devastated in the holos when my part in arresting him had come up.

After I'd gone through the interrogations, I had asked Jack to use a sketch artist program with Blair, to come up with some visuals on these three.

I got a pretty good idea why there was an eye witness willing to swear after viewing Blair's holo that he was the guy who'd entered the drug dealer's cradle, and why one of the dealer's description matched Blair's, although that man hadn't sworn the holo he'd been shown was the guy he'd bought Yana from.

Chance looked a lot like Blair. Same long dark hair, same approximate height, approximate age, body build, eye color, etc. Apparently, Iris – or whatever her name really was -- had a type, and Chance was probably right to feel jealous.

Blair shook his head in the holo I had watched, not accepting that Chance and he resembled each other. But the sketch was close enough.

Jack had sent all three portraits through the system's criminal facial recognition program, but so far nothing had come up.

So either they'd managed to keep from being arrested in the past, or somebody had gotten to those records, too.

Or, as Jack patiently pointed out to me later, Sandburg had pulled these descriptions out of his ass, and there was no Iris, Rob, or Chance.

It was a good thing I knew that Blair would pass the truth-test, because Blair's story would be shot down by the defense. He simply had no proof that would hold up.

I kept on digging, but time was running out before the trial.

The truth-test was our best hope.

///

 

The day of the truth-test found Blair anxious, but hiding it pretty well, as he made small talk with Mickey about what to expect in court the next day. If I hadn't had a pipeline straight to his emotions, I might have been fooled as much as the doctor and Mickey apparently were.

While Blair and Mickey waited, the ship's medical staff prepared materials for the test under the direction of the specialist doctor who had come to administer it.

I was observing the whole procedure behind a hidden window. To anybody in the infirmary, it would have looked like part of the wall.

Blair kept glancing at that wall, and I could feel a vague puzzlement from him. I had to remember that this connection between me and him was a two way street, and I tried to damp down my own feelings.

Soon it didn't matter because an IV was inserted into Blair's arm, and the drug began its slow careful drip into his body. The electric shock collar was removed; the drugs themselves would guard him from his brain shifting to Theta waves.

An hour later, Blair was deeply unconscious on his gurney. A second IV line was inserted into his other arm and the second drug administered.

That was when it all went to perdition.

Blair started convulsing in a grand mal seizure, and the medical staff erupted into frantic activity; the second IV was removed from his arm, and a syringe of an anticonvulsant to stop the seizures was injected into the remaining IV line.

The new medication was slow to take effect and he had seven seizures, cascading one after the other, before his body stopped making those terrible noises and tightening up in painful arcs.

Allergic.

He was allergic to one of the drugs necessary to the whole procedure. There wasn't another one that could be substituted.

We were fucked.

///

 

“The plant teachers must be honored... My presentation is on creation myths of the Sho'nakan people of Quyllur... Man, I promise I'll have the rent money by Tuesday... Mama, where are we going now?”

Blair was out of his head, had been for many hours now – an after-effect of the seizures, the doctor explained. Sometimes he would hallucinate, talking to people who weren't there. He had grabbed my arm, to warn me about a snake up in the branches of a tree... and to my astonishment he had called me by my name.

I was the only one he looked at that he named correctly.

Banks entered the infirmary. I wasn't surprised to see him since I knew that the guard assigned to Blair had reported in about his prisoner's condition. After Blair had become stabilized, I had told the guard he could go, that I would keep an eye on the patient.

The patient had a nasty laceration on his ankle, where he had been attached to the bed by a standard locker restraint. There was sufficient play in the chain so that he could move his leg, but the seizures had made the cuff cruelly cut into his leg. I had ordered it removed, and now a wide bandage swathed his ankle.

“Ellison. What happened? And I'm aware you've been working Sandburg's case, even though I made it clear it was to be closed. We have all the evidence we need to make a conviction.”

“Sorry, sir, but there's too many loose ends for me to just drop investigating; I don't think Sandburg is guilty. I'll accept any disciplinary action, but I need to stay with this. He goes to court tomorrow, unless the doctor certifies him incompetent.”

I filled him in on the medical aspects, but he didn't look very sympathetic.

“Does the doctor think he'll be lucid enough for court tomorrow?”

I shrugged. Banks scowled and beckoned the doctor over.

“I'm Captain Banks, head of MIC. What can you tell me about this prisoner's condition. Specifically, will he be able to attend his trial tomorrow?”

The doctor gave a more elaborate description of what had gone wrong than I did, then he pulled up a holo of Blair's brain, which looked like fireworks were going off in celebration of Ancestor Day on New Rainier.

“You're looking at his synapses firing fairly randomly throughout his brain. That's because he's still having a reaction to the multiple seizures he had earlier. The medication has stopped him from having any new seizures, but as to when he'll be able to comprehend anything, well, it could be late this afternoon or three days from now.”

Banks grumbled his displeasure at this news. The doctor pulled up some other schematics, pulse and blood pressure and temperature, and then laid his hand on Blair's forehead.

Blair glanced up at him, and smiled. “Eli. How are you? Hey, thanks for putting in a good word for me about the TA position. I know the other candidate's class standing is a lot higher – well anyone's is usually higher than mine – so I really appreciate what you've done for me.”

The doctor ignored Blair's little speech.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Blair.” He said it with a smile in his voice that implied the doctor was being silly, but he'd humor him.

“What's your last name, Blair?”

“Sand... something.”

“Your mother's name?”

“Mama.”

“Your father's name?”

I listened carefully to the answer. Maybe his mother had told him who his father was, despite withholding that information from the record.

“It's a secret.”

The doctor asked him again, adding “Tell me the secret, Blair. What's your father's name?”

“Don't know. Not my secret.”

I caught the doctor's eye and indicated the back of Blair's hand. When he saw the bastard class tattoo, the doctor nodded in understanding.

“Well, I guess we can't ask you to tell us something that you don't know even when you are coherent.” The doctor pointed to me. “Do you know his name?”

Blair grinned up at me flirtatiously. “Jim. He's my friend. I wish he'd fuck me.”

Banks choked. The doctor made a non-committal sound. “What can you tell me about Jim? Do you remember his last name?”

Blair's face clouded over. “He hates me. He's my sentinel and he put the lockers on me. He, he did something, and now I can't run and I can't hide. He's a lot taller than me. But I have more hair.”

The doctor scrutinized Banks before answering. “He's starting to come around, but as you can hear, he's far from lucid.”

“All right. Ellison, don't you have some of Jack's cases to work on?” Banks didn't raise his voice, but I clearly heard the internal bellow in it anyway.

“Sir. I'll take leave if you want me to, but I need to stay with Blair.”

Banks eyed me for a good long time. Eons probably. Then he looked down at Blair, who was staring at the corner of the room, fascinated by something only he could see.

“You'd better have more to go on than just being swayed by a pretty face. But you can continue working on this case, and on the clock; I won't stop you from looking for proof that your boy here isn't a drug runner, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Even someone like him deserves to have a fair trial, with all the evidence uncovered in his support.”

Blair chose that moment to slide out of bed. I caught him as he lurched forward a few steps and when he felt my arms go around him, he laid his head on my chest and let out a tired, happy sound.

“Hey, buddy. You need to stay in bed.” I saw Banks roll his eyes at my tone of voice. So what, I thought. He already had decided that I'd lost all objectivity.

Blair started mumbling about being late to class, and then he started talking in Sho'nakan, asking questions about the sacred plants.

I answered him in the same language, telling him that it was not time to learn these lessons, that he needed to return to his bed and rest.

He sagged against me even more, and I scooped him up and laid him on the gurney.

He grabbed my hand, and held it tightly. Banks left, after giving the two of us a long, speculating look.

I let Blair hang onto me for close to an hour, and I pushed at him a sense of being calm, of rest. Gradually, I felt a return feeling of increasing clarity; his eyes met mine and he contemplated me for a moment and then glanced around at the infirmary.

“Ellison. I'm sick?” He yawned, and his eyelids started to slide closed.

“Go to sleep, Blair. You'll feel better when you wake up,” I lied.

He rolled over on his side and in a few moments he was deeply asleep.

I rubbed my eyebrow, feeling more concern for this man than I had felt for anyone since my teammates had died in that ambush. I pulled out my slave and went back to looking for a way out of this hell for him.

///

 

I'd done what I could while Blair was dreaming, checking on how the hunt for the three that'd put Blair in this bind was progressing, getting Banks' permission for a DNA sweep of Blair's bird, and getting the techs to make a match between Blair's voice and the anonymous comm that had been sent to the protectors.

I thought that due to the time constraints, proving Blair had been the one to call in the authorities would be his best bet for showing he'd just been swept up in the transportation of the plants, and was not the mastermind.

He refused to speak to me after he woke up and identified me for the doctor.

'Jim Ellison, MIC undercover detective and monumental prick,' was how he'd answered the doctor's question. Then he rolled away from me and wouldn't respond to anything I asked him. I shot a look at the doctor, who was observing the holo of Blair's brain, and he motioned for me to follow him into his office.

He stood, facing me. “He's aware of what he just said, Detective. He's clamming up on purpose, not because he can't process what you've asked him.”

I rubbed the back of my head. “Yeah, I'm really feeling the love from him right now. I'll go, no sense in antagonizing him, and maybe he'll rest better knowing I'm not here.”

The specialist I'd hired had departed as soon as it was clear that his testimony would not be needed in person; he'd made a deposition that the truth-test was unable to be administered due to Sandburg having had a severe allergic reaction. It had been sent to the prosecution and Mickey hours ago.

The doctor walked to his door, and stopped, hand on the knob. “I'm not sure he realizes yet that the truth-test was aborted. He might become majorly distraught again, so I'm putting him back on suicide watch and replacing that collar.”

I nodded, and I followed him back into the treatment area. I could sense that Blair knew I was there, and apparently the warmth I'd felt from him about me earlier was entirely dispelled; he was back to being extremely pissed.

It was with reluctance that I locked his unhurt ankle back to the gurney, and called in a guard to stay with him while I went out to knock a few heads together and see if anything useful spilled out.

It was looking more and more likely that he would be in court in the morning, since the tests the doctor ran showed he was recovering.

I left without talking anymore to him, but I kept pushing through this new connection of ours that I was on his side, that I was trying to help him.

But from the sense of mistrust that he responded with, he wasn't buying it. Thought it was just more tricks on my part.

Well, maybe Mickey could get through to him. I commed him on my way to sign out a bird; and although it was getting late, he agreed to come to the infirmary when the doctor cleared Blair for questioning. If he could get Blair to answer my questions, which I immediately sent to Mickey's slave, there was a chance his responses could open a new line of investigation.

Besides worrying over this new setback, something was puzzling me, as I piloted a bird back down to the planet. Blair had called me his sentinel.

I'd never told him that I was a non-practicing sentinel. How did he find out? And he'd said 'my sentinel,' not 'a sentinel.'

'My sentinel.'

If by some miracle he wasn't found guilty, I'd have to clear that up with him.

I wasn't going to be 'his sentinel.'

///

 

I returned to the Pride of Cascade having spent the rest of the evening and night on Quyllur trying to locate any evidence that could bolster Blair's case. I'd made the rounds of bars where it was known that less savory characters tended to gather to make arrangements for deals that weren't always on the right side of the law.

The pickings had been slim to none. Anybody with half a brain had gone to ground, or left Quyllur for fresh territory without New Rainier laws to crimp their style. Of course, we'd nabbed a lot of the ones who'd been careless, and they were on the ship awaiting trials themselves.

One bartender, after I'd refreshed his memory with a handful of credits, had remembered seeing Iris, or whatever her real name was, with a man who was not her brother or her boyfriend.

“He was a slick customer, that one with the girl. Not from Quyllur, you know? From what he said, he didn't think much of our world and the girl agreed with him, but the man told her he was paying her good money to do her job here. That's all I overheard, then they left.” I roused up a protectors artist and left as the two of them were deep in discussion about the man's hair color and the shape of his ears.

Mickey had commed me around dawn and said we needed to talk. But I hadn't expected to see him waiting by the bay doors after I'd docked my bird.

“Jim, there's a problem; come with me.” He looked annoyed and exasperated and worried.

I gathered that he didn't want to discuss the problem as we walked the decks of the ship, and I wasn't in the mood for small talk, so we kept quiet until we'd entered his quarters.

He turned to me and ran his hand through his bushy dark hair. He shook his head, and then went to the kaffee machine, poured himself a cup.

“Sandburg fired me. The doctor cleared him as competent to stand trial about an hour ago, and commed me, as we'd discussed earlier. I had only asked three of the questions you'd sent to me when he realized they were your questions. He demanded to know why his lawyer was doing MIC's work for them. He point blank asked me why his case had been changed to me instead of keeping his original lawyer, and I told him that I'd been hired by you to defend him. Jim...” He shook his head again. “That boy doesn't believe you're trying to help him. He thinks that you're looking for more evidence to convict him.”

I groaned. “Did he answer anything at all?”

“He told me where he kept his bird when he was on New Rainier. He didn't answer the other two questions, apparently that first question triggered his suspicions. I notified his original lawyer and she's taken over his case. I turned over what you've found, that there is multiple DNA on his ship that could back his story, but Jim, we didn't get a lock on any of it, at least not when I'd checked a half hour ago. It's not going to do much good without any matches through the criminal system. The only solid evidence that he was telling the truth is that they did match his voice to the message sent to the protectors. It's mostly garbled, though. I can tell you what I'd say about that if it was me prosecuting his case. I'd say that he sent that message out as a diversion, that he'd planned to head the other direction but it backfired on him when he had engine trouble. I'd argue that he didn't even leave his own ship, just used the pod's comm. We know that his course was locked in and he was traveling at a snail's pace and that is, by the way, the only reason you caught up with him.”

I frowned. “What's his motive for drawing attention to himself in any form? Why not leave quietly?”

Mickey drank half of his mug of kaffee before answering. “The thing is, he knew he was under investigation. He'd disappeared weeks before, and he knew you were looking for him. If you'd found that he'd shipped out, you might have thrown a net out and snagged him with the plants. He gambled on sending you in the wrong direction, so he could get away in the confusion. It was his bad luck about the engine trouble.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. And Jim, his lawyer is not going to exert herself for him. Why don't you try and talk to him and convince him you are on his side, and persuade him to let me represent him.”

I pulled out my slave and checked the time. Court was in three hours. I felt for the connection between us. Blair was asleep.

“He's dead to the world. I bet the doctor drugged him.” Listening to myself, I realized that there was no way for me to have known that through normal means.

Mickey stared at me, frowning. Ah, time to spill the beans. “I did something to Sandburg on the spirit plane, and yes, I have experience with astral travel. So does Sandburg, and we met there. You know when he almost died the other day? I stopped him by binding our souls together. I didn't ask his permission, and he's pretty mad about it. Too bad, because I can live with him being angry because he's going to stay alive. The shaman of my people explained to me that we'd soul-bonded, and we will be soul-bonded for the rest of our lives.”

“How in perdition do you merge souls? You're not a shaman, are you?”

“Incacha said I was able to do it because I'm a sentinel and Blair is a guide, and we'd spent a fair amount of time together. It was instinctive on my part, I know. But we're not bonded as sentinel and guide. That's different. Anyway, we now have a connection between us, this empathy thing that lets us know what the other one is feeling. But Blair, the stubborn little shit, thinks I'm just tricking him. I guess because I did lie to him about who I really was.”

He looked at me and shook his head. “Jim, there's a good chance he's going to be convicted. It'll depend on which version of events the judge believes, since the evidence can be made to fit both ways.”

I exhaled slowly, feeling time running out on me. “I'll try to talk to him when he's awake, try and make him see reason. In the meantime, I'm going to drink a gallon of that kaffee, and check if a DNA match for the three he named has come in.”

///

 

I did speak to Blair when he awoke from his drugged slumber. It didn't go very well. He wasn't able to stand up, since the locker on his ankle restricted his movements, and I could tell that having to look up to me from where he sat cross-legged on the bed was ticking him off. I grabbed a chair and sat down next to him.

I told him that I did believe him, and explained about the new evidence that could support his story. But I guess he also sensed my trepidation that the same exact evidence could be twisted to support the prosecution's argument. The upshot was that his sense of mistrust about me grew in more leaps and bounds.

"Just leave me the fuck alone, Ellison. There isn't a single word that comes out of your lying mouth that I'm going to believe, not anymore. Man, I don't know what you did to me when I met you on my dream-scape, but I want you to fix it. I don't want this connection. And what in the five levels of perdition gave you the right to decide I needed your lawyer? Arrogant doesn't begin to describe it. At least with the public defender, I don't have to worry about any hidden agenda from the person who's supposed to be on my side. So go away. I'd like my last couple of days as myself to be without your company."

He was still angry, very much so, but other emotions were vying for dominance. Grief, regret, and sadness were starting to tear him up inside.

Blair didn't think he had a chance of winning his case. He expected to be mind-wiped. And he was blaming it all on me.

I left. But I remembered how he'd acted when he'd been out of his head. There was a part of him that did like me, that did want this connection we had. But I guessed that days of being incarcerated, of having nothing to do but tear apart my actions toward him since we'd met, had cemented his belief that I was his enemy, and that any help I now offered was only to trick him into revealing more information that I'd use against him.

He was so dead wrong, but I just couldn't seem to get through to him, not even with this soul-bond we had. He didn't understand it, hadn't had the benefit of a shaman's explanation like I had received.

He'd be taken to the courtroom soon. I was going to have to testify about my actions, and I hoped like hell that his lawyer would ask me the right questions. Mickey had gone to brief her, but I had no real faith that she would make much effort to defend Blair.

I hadn't felt this gut level of wrongness since my team and I had been ambushed. I remembered that feeling of disaster tainting my last desperate interactions with my men, and I felt the same way now.

I'd lost the most important people in my life that black day.

I didn't feel the same way about Sandburg, that he was the most important person in my life now. He was something different to me. I didn't know what exactly I'd do if the judge ruled against him, but I would have to act.

I'd soul-bonded him and in my book that made me responsible for his well-being. I could imagine his arguments against that opinion, and mentally I demolished all of them.

To every action, a reaction. I took him, without his permission. I forged this connection between us that was separate from the physical attraction we'd shared.

It fell to me to save him, if he was found guilty. It was that simple, really. It was my duty, and I would embrace it, no matter the cost to myself.


	3. Part Three

Blair's anxiety was strong, but an observer would never have guessed that the young man seated in the defendant's chair, eyes fixed firmly on the holo of the judge, was anything else but attentive to her words.

She concluded her remarks about how the trial would proceed and asked the court recorder, a black-haired man who managed to look both bored and disdainful, to begin the verification procedure. Blair was summoned to the man's station at the side of the room, and a skimmer, which alternated between a male and female voice, read his code and announced his name and parentage for the official record.

The prosecutor asked for the recording to stop after his maternal parentage had been accepted into the record, when the cool female voice of the skimmer stated that there was no paternal records available.

“Excuse me, Your Reverence, I would just like to clarify for the record that Blair Sandburg is indeed a bastard, and that no male member of any class has acknowledged that he holds their DNA. As you know, most unfortunates placed into the bastard class do at least know their parentage, but in this case we do not even have a listing of his paternal heritage, even if unclaimed by that parent.”

That son-of-a-space-whore. He was trying to discredit Blair to the judge before any actual evidence was even brought up. Like it was Blair's fault that his mother hadn't taken legal means to secure DNA testing and gain child support, and at least a naming from Blair's male parent. Unless the father had claimed Blair for his legal son, like Naomi had done as his mother, Blair would have still been placed into the bastard class, but even within that group not knowing who your parents were made you more of an outcast.

Blair's lawyer didn't object though. Great. Just what I had feared: she wasn't going to put forth much, if any, effort to win Blair's case.

However, the judge was having none of it. She looked about ninety years old and probably had been a practicing judge for fifty years. She'd probably heard every slick lawyer trick in the book by now.

“The defendant's status is noted by this court and does not require any special explanations. I do not approve of wasting the court's time on theatrics, and the prosecution will do well to remember this.” She gave the prosecutor – the Honorable John Delmore, according to his introduction to the court earlier – a stern and lengthy stare. He raised his hands a little in surrender, and sat back down.

The judge looked as if she was really there in the room designated for court proceedings on the Pride of Cascade, but I could have walked right through her. The holo emitters in the room were also sending holo copies of everyone deemed necessary to the trial back to where she was in Cascade. If Blair was found guilty then he would have a sentencing date a few days later, in order to allow a placement to be finalized. Then he would be mind-wiped and sent to whatever huge business or factory-farm had gotten his contract from the Department of Justice. Business as usual, and the judge probably wouldn't even remember his face by next week.

There is a ritual , a flow, to a court trial. In other circumstances Blair probably would have been fascinated by it, and I would have been entertained by his analysis and comparison to other styles of judgment and punishment he'd studied.

At the present time, though, he was concentrating on taking deep breaths, slowly releasing them, and striving to keep his anxiety from overtaking him.

The first testimony was factual. The holo deposition of Doctor Cooper, the specialist who had administered the truth-test, was played and entered into the court records. Then Doctor Mako, the infirmary doctor who treated Blair, was called up to answer any further questions.

He confirmed the specialist's deposition. “The patient, Mr. Sandburg, had strong cascading seizures after the second medication was administered. For his health, the procedure was stopped and he was treated for the seizures. Seizures are rare, but they can be a side effect of the medications used if the patient has an allergic reaction to them.”

Maguire had nothing to ask the doctor, but Delmore asked him to identify who paid for the truth-test, since it hadn't been ordered by the protectors.

“Doctor Cooper told me that Detective Ellison paid for his time and the cost of the procedure, even though it was ineffectual.”

Blair turned in his seat and stared at me, his expression mystified, and I felt his confusion. Then the baffled look cleared, and I saw him nod grimly. The little idiot. From the shift in his mood to angry and knowing, I knew he thought I'd been looking for more evidence against him, probably since he hadn't named his New Rainier contacts.

I sent back a strong message to him that he was dead wrong. He responded by blocking me out to only a trickle. Good trick. He must have been practicing how to do that, his burgeoning skills as a shaman most likely aiding him.

Before Doctor Mako's testimony was concluded, the judge asked him to explain the purpose of the collar around the defendant's neck.

“Mr. Sandburg is on suicide watch, and since he is able to control his body's autonomic responses while in a deep meditative state, that collar prevents his brain from engaging in Theta waves, so that he cannot try again to stop his breathing and his heart from beating.”

He gave Blair a sympathetic look before he was dismissed. He would have to perform the mind-wipe on Blair if he was found guilty, and I thought, from how he'd handled Blair after his seizures, that he'd become fond of him.

The prosecution presented its case first, and Delmore laid out the evidence, starting with the pattern of Yana distribution on the street that matched Blair's trips to New Rainier, then the holo-deposition of the witness who'd identified Blair as entering a known Yana dealer's residence was entered as evidence.

Then I was called up to the witness chair, and I responded to Delmore's questions, testifying that I'd been assigned to investigate Sandburg and had used an undercover identify to closely observe my suspect. I ended my remarks with explaining how I'd arrested Blair on his ship, the course set for New Rainier, and that it had hidden holds that had contained Yana plants.

The prosecutor treated me as a hostile witness, and kept the questions simple, deftly avoiding any areas where I could explain things that would favor Blair's story.

His lawyer would have to do that, and if she didn't ask me the right questions, like Mickey would have done, then I'd have to break court protocol and ask to address the judge directly.

I'd probably get slapped with a contempt of court citation and a fine, but it would be worth it to have the judge consider more favorable evidence.

Blair's feelings of betrayal and hurt had zoomed up when I took the stand. He felt so devastated to me, and I had to marvel at what an actor he was because none of that was recognizable on his face, except for a slow closing of his eyelids and the way his fist tightened on his thigh as he sat exposed in the defendant's chair.

The judge asked, “PD Maguire, do you have any questions for Detective Ellison, before he is released from court?”

“Yes, Your Reverence,” she replied, and then she asked me about everything that could back up Blair's story. I told the judge about the comm message that Blair had sent giving his location to the protectors and asking for assistance. The recording of the comm message was played for the judge and the technical verification of a match between Sandburg's voice and the voice on the recording was accepted by the court.

Then I described his manner when I entered his bird, how he cooperated with me, how he stated he was relieved to see me, that he was grateful I had come to rescue him. I related the story he had told me, and explained to the judge that a sweep had revealed that fourteen different people had left DNA samples behind on that ship. I could not, however, match any of these samples to the names Sandburg had given me, Chance, Iris, and Rob. There was a man named Rob Johnson who had a residence and mechanic shop on Quyllur. Blair had identified his holo as the Rob who had forced him to transport the Yana plants.

But Delmore's rebuttal questions established that no DNA belonging to Rob Johnson was found at the man's shop, so there was only Blair's word that it was the same man.

Actually, only one DNA sample harvested from Blair's spaceship had been located in the criminal DNA database, and that man had been deceased for three years.

A wave of sadness hit me from Blair when the man's name and death was identified for the court records; he'd been the boxer Blair had been friends with, lovers even, some sources had said.

Possibly we could have found matches if we'd had access to the government databases that held every person in the New Rainier Hundred Worlds genetic coding, their ancestry, and class standing. But there were very strict laws that protected that information from being released, including not allowing fishing expeditions to match DNA to crimes. The only database allowed for that purpose was the Criminal DNA one, and those three had managed to avoid being tagged for it.

I was asked by Maguire about the three's physical descriptions, and the portraits done by the sketch artist based on Blair's descriptions that showed how much Chance resembled Blair. I pointed out that the two men were similar enough to confuse the eye witness who had identified Blair's holo as the man who'd entered the Yana distributor's dwelling.

Delmore objected to that, stating that since it was Blair who'd given the description, the source could not be trusted. The judge agreed, and the sketches were refused as evidence.

Then Delmore, now that Maguire had finished with me, proceeded to tear down everything I'd built up in Blair's defense. He proposed that Blair had attempted to lay a false trail for the protectors to follow, knowing that he was under surveillance, and that the only reason he'd actually been in the area he'd commed from was that his bird, old, unreliable, frequently in need of repair, had once again refused to fly correctly, stranding him at a slow rate of speed with his destination locked in to New Rainier.

He dismissed the idea that Blair had been forced to accompany the three who'd kidnapped him and stolen his bird. His version was that Blair, if indeed the three existed, was partnered with them, and that his throwing the blame on them was his desperate attempt to deflect it from himself, after a falling out among thieves.

And then he got personal. He asked about the nature of the surveillance, and he managed to insinuate that I'd become close to Sandburg without actually coming out and saying I'd been fucking him while undercover. I wished he had, because that I could deny outright. But what he did was cast a shadow over my testimony, leaving the strong impression that I'd become biased. He didn't ask me why I'd paid for Blair's truth-test. Again, I wished he had asked, because then I could respond that I believed him to be innocent of the charges. No, he just asked if I had ever paid for any truth-tests to be done for other suspects I'd arrested.

The answer to that was 'no.' I knew what he was doing, he was implying to the judge that I'd overstepped my boundaries for Blair, that I was compromised because I had inappropriate feelings for him.

It probably worked, too, because the judge frowned at me, and I felt any remaining hope that Blair would be found innocent sinking.

Delmore, damn him, did pretty well with the rest of his smear campaign. He managed to bring out that Blair was casual with his sexual relationships and didn't ask me about his more recent celibacy. It wasn't anything to do with the case, not really, and I kept waiting for Maguire to object.

She didn't. I don't know why I even was surprised that she didn't try and stop him. She personally thought Blair was guilty, after all.

Finally, I was dismissed. There was a short recess, and then Blair took the witness chair.

Blair looked pale, but he was composed as he sat down. Even though I knew he distrusted me, I sent a message of support and care strong enough to make him open back up, for a moment. Surprised, he stared at me, and his expression slipped enough for a glimpse of his true feelings of worry and desolation to show, but he immediately got himself back under control, resuming his formerly blank expression again.

Maguire asked him to explain his actions in his own words, but before Blair began the judge addressed Blair directly.

“Mr. Sandburg, make your remarks brief and concise. The court's time is valuable and this is not the time or place for pleas of leniency.”

Blair responded to her words like a challenge. I could feel the fight in him rise up; his chin lifted a little and he took a deep breath, and I felt him calm himself before he explained how this story had unfolded from his point of view.

He'd been on New Rainier, spending time at the university for his research, which had included bringing back plant samples from Quyllur for lab testing, when Iris had approached him about a ride back to Quyllur.

It had not struck him as odd or suspicious that she had spoken to him, because he always had messages posted in various places on campus inviting fellow students to share his costs for transportation.

Iris, who hadn't offered him her last name -- and he hadn't asked for it -- proposed a barter: transportation for her and her brother to New Rainier and Quyllur whenever Blair needed to make his own trips. Her brother, a ship mechanic who specialized in vintage birds like Blair's, would trade tuneups and fix anything needed for free. She asked that their deal be kept private. Blair agreed, and until he was arrested that was their arrangement.

He stated that he didn't know that his ship's holds had been outfitted with secret smuggling spaces. He assumed Rob had done it during a refit of Blair's ship. He also thought that the plants must have been loaded shortly before they would leave, when his bird was at Rob's shop getting a tuneup. Blair and Iris usually would go and have dinner together, or go to a bar to listen to a band, since they shared similar musical tastes. They'd go their separate ways when they arrived on New Rainier, until it was time for the return trip. He speculated that Rob had given himself a way into the bird without Blair's bio-metrics, the same way he had been able to override Blair's course instructions and control the ship when Chance had kidnapped Blair and stolen his ship and the plants, leaving Iris and Rob behind, locked in Rob's shop.

He described the fight between Iris and the man she called Chance.

“I had just brought my bird into Rob's shop for the usual systems check, and Iris and I were getting ready to go out to dinner – her treat – when Chance came in waving his stunner and got into a screaming match with Iris.”

He began waving his hands a little, getting caught up in his own words.

“The gist of it was that Iris and Chance had broken up, he was angry about her seeing someone else, me, and he was going to get even with her by double-crossing them and stealing the plants and taking them to a new guy who'd pay him more money than their contact on New Rainier. He locked Iris and Rob in a room, made me pack the plants into the ship, and we took off. He needed me along because the controls were keyed to my bio-metrics. But Rob and Iris caught up to us, since it turned out that Rob had installed a tracker beacon, and he also had left himself a backdoor opening to take control of my ship. He hit some kind of kill switch, which stopped my ship cold.”

There was a strong bout of indignation that I felt from him about that. Apparently he hated that Rob had messed with his bird.

“Then when Rob and Iris boarded the ship there was another bout of screaming and yelling; Iris slapped Chance, but they got over what they were mad about and Iris and Chance decided to get back together.”

I watched him start to roll his eyes when he said that, but apparently remembering he was being watched by the judge he aborted it.

“So, while they were discussing which guy to turn the plants over to, I got away and used a pod to leave the ship. I sent the message you heard played in court today, but they discovered I was missing, retrieved my pod, and when they checked my comm they knew I'd contacted the protectors. They transferred most of the plants to Rob's ship, and locked my speed down to a very slow rate and set the course to New Rainier, but he'd blocked me from engaging the roll-through function. And I just don't know enough about temporal mechanics to fix what he'd done. That's when Detective Ellison came on board. He wouldn't listen to me, although I explained what had happened. He didn't even try and search for the real criminals. He just arrested me. Those plants weren't mine; I did not ever engage in trafficking for Yana by supplying the plants needed to make it, or sell the drug itself.”

He looked at me then, reproach and anger clearly etched on his face. The judge asked if his testimony was concluded, and he answered in the affirmative.

Delmore attacked him then. He didn't come right out and say that Blair's motivation to supply Yana was because of his intense desire to move out of the bastard class because, again, a statement like that could be denied. The prosecutor was allowing the judge to read between the lines, and even Blair's academic achievements were tainted by his insinuations. Blair's choice of a Master's degree in Botany was presented by Delmore as giving him the skills needed to find a plant he could transform into a drug and buy his way out of the bastard class.

He tied in the bank account for Free the People from Class Restrictions, which was one of the activist groups Naomi Sandburg was heavily involved with, and showed how funds had been transferred from an account that Blair held to the activist account. A lot of credits had been donated, and while that was not illegal, he brought up the point that Blair, impoverished graduate student, did not have legitimate access to that kind of income.

Blair denied that he'd sent the money, didn't know where the money came from, and emphatically said that somebody had framed him. But he did admit the account was his.

Even his research with the Sho'nakan was slanted to look like he'd been taking advantage of a people unable to defend themselves against the plotting of an intelligent, immoral, sophisticated man like Blair Sandburg.

I thought again of Blair holding Sho'nakan children on his lap, Blair respectfully following the strictures given to him by different shamans, Blair's insistence that the sacred plants be treated with honor.

Blair tried to respond as best he could to defend himself, but the prosecution made a damning case against him. His lawyer, who was acting competently enough that the case could not be appealed based on poor representation, did nothing to change that impression with the one or two questions she did ask Blair.

The judge allowed a short recess and I started to cross the room to Blair, but the judge instead called me up to the bench, along with a bailiff.

“Detective Ellison, I am imposing a ban on your interactions with Mr. Sandburg. This means you may not speak with him, send him messages in any form, or be in his company. Bailiff, see to it that my restriction is entered into the court's records.”

I felt myself flush, and anger over her actions rose up in me like a tidal wave.

“Your Reverence --” She cut me off.

“You will follow this court order, Detective, or you will be placed into custody for the remainder of this trial and sentencing. Bailiff, see to it that his superior is notified. Detective, this is for your own protection. It is apparent to me that you have compromised your objectivity with this defendant. It's best that your contact be severed now. I will warn you that if you cannot control yourself in my courtroom, you will be removed. Are you clear about your restrictions, Detective Ellison?”

If I railed about this, I'd just get myself ejected and maybe placed into protective custody.

Gritting my teeth, I answered her in the affirmative, and when she dismissed me I returned to my seat, the bailiff's eye upon me.

The judge's holo disappeared from the room, and I sat seething, until Captain Banks called my name from behind me.

I stood up then and turned to face him, and he gave me a severe look.

“Ellison, I've been informed that you're banned from speaking to Sandburg. When the trial is over, if he's found guilty, then you're coming with me, understand. I'm not risking you doing something stupid. And knock off glaring at me. This is for your own good, before you tank your career.” He indicated for me to sit back down, and he landed his own large frame in the chair next to mine.

Fuck. I'd just been saddled with a six foot, five inch babysitter.

Blair had been taken out of the room, maybe for a bathroom break or to get a drink of water. He was too anxious to eat, I could tell.

I didn't bother trying to talk Banks out of hovering over me. I knew the man well enough by now to know it would be futile.

Ten minutes later, the judge's holo appeared back in the room. She sat high up on the dais. The bailiff called for court to resume and for all to rise, and then be reseated.

She banged the gavel that was a relic from ancient times and announced that the defendant was to approach the bench. The bailiff showed Blair where to stand in front of her, where she could stare down at him.

His fists were clenched at his side, and I could feel him steeling himself.

“Blair Sandburg, you stand before this court charged with grievous offenses against the people of the New Rainier Hundred Worlds. After considering the evidence, I find you guilty of all charges. The penalties for your crimes will be given in two day's time, at your sentencing hearing.

“The court orders that you be remanded back into custody, that you remain on suicide watch, and that Detective Ellison's ban against speaking or contacting you remain in effect.”

She studied her slave for a moment and then added, “Ms. Maguire, the defendant's appeal is denied. Court is dismissed.”

Blair was hustled out of the courtroom, and I felt the wave of despair from him hit me so strongly that I doubled over in my chair.

I felt Bank's warm hand on the back of my neck, and when I could lift my head back up, he took my elbow.

“C'mon, Jim. I'm taking you down to Jack's place. And I'm sorry, truly sorry that things turned out this way. C'mon.”

I moved in a haze, not really aware of my surroundings, because I was picturing Blair's cheerful, beautiful face morphing into the blank, dull look that I'd seen on those unlucky enough to be severely mind-wiped. The intelligence would be gone from his eyes, and I wondered if his good nature would remain.

I remained lost in my own thoughts until Banks pushed me down into a porch chair on Jack's shady veranda, and poured me a belt of Agrasa.

“There has to be something I can do, Captain. An appeal to be filed. A continuance to delay sentencing.”

“I asked your lawyer to join us, Jim. But Sandburg's lawyer already asked for an appeal as a matter of routine and it's been turned down. Besides, delaying sentencing is just going to make it harder on the kid. You're going to have to let him go. You've done all that you can do, Jim.”

But I couldn't accept that. So if legal means were barred, well, I'd have to break him out of jail. Tonight, when Banks was asleep, I'd return to the ship and I'd take him and we'd run. We'd go to one of the fringe worlds, and we'd make a life together.

I was so far away, making plans for how to get past the guards and steal a ship, that I didn't notice until too late that Simon had locked my wrist to his.

“Forget it, Jim. You're not very subtle, you know. Why do you think the judge made sure to keep you away from the kid? It's written all over your face how you feel about him. I know you're thinking of ways to break him out, and I can't let you do that. And don't even think about trying to fight me. Jack is on his way down here, too, and between your lawyer, Jack and me, you're not going to do anything stupid.”

He sighed. “Get stinking drunk if you need to, but you're going to have to accept reality. You can't save Sandburg.”

But I couldn't accept that. I couldn't. There had to be a way and I would find it, no matter the cost.

///

 

Several hours later, I sat slumped in one of the comfortable chairs on the shaded patio at house, Banks keeping me company by sitting close to me in another oversized chair. Well, he didn't really have a choice since we were locked together. Jack kept refilling my glass with the clear blue of Agrasa, and by the sympathy in his eyes I knew he was offering the only solace he thought was left.

“He's not guilty, Jack. I've ruined an innocent man's life.” I lifted the glass and tossed back the drink in one gulp. I hadn't given up on losing my keepers and stealing Blair away from his cell, but to do so Captain Banks and Jack would have to believe that I'd passed out, and hopefully just dump me in a bed. Maybe they wouldn't even cuff me to it. Breaking free of lockers wasn't easy, but I might be able to manage it, and I'd been keeping my eyes open for anything that could spring the lock. Right now, since Banks and I were sharing it, the locker hadn't been set for just my DNA. It was on general mode, and that meant the key to it hadn't been programed with my DNA, either. I could use something else to force the lockers open.

I railed again about the injustice of Blair losing his intelligence and his freedom, and I exaggerated my gestures and slurred my words loudly in order to lull my guardians into thinking I was well on my way to passing out.

Jack shot me another look, and maybe I was falling under the influence of the drink because I felt a warm wave of affection for him and Mickey, and even for Banks, for banding together to be there for me, to help me through this tough time. Then the affection turned into depression, because the only support Blair would receive before he was sentenced was chemical. Jack had told me that the doctor had shot Blair up with something that had made him feel like he hadn't a care in the world. It was just supposed to reduce his anxiety somewhat, but he'd actually become giggly, another atypical drug reaction. The doctor said it wouldn't affect his health so he was letting the drug remain in Blair's system. It was due to wear off shortly before his return to court.

I felt for our connection, and yeah – Blair was feeling mirthful. Well, maybe it was better this way – he might not fight me when I told him we were escaping.

Jack started to tip the bottle to refill my drink again, but Mickey put his hand over the glass.

“Jim, you need to stop drinking right now. I need you sober to have this discussion.”

We all three turned to look at him. Mickey had been quiet since he and Jack had arrived, and he'd been working on his slave while I'd been faking drinking myself into a stupor.

Banks rumbled at him. “Why? I thought that Sandburg's appeal had been denied by the judge even before the courtroom had cleared out. You told us an hour and a half ago that any statutes you've researched won't support throwing the conviction out. Sandburg had his day in court, and frankly, I think he was partly guilty. Maybe he didn't know what the cargo was that he was smuggling for that girl, but my guess is that he knew it was illegal, and he did it anyway. It stunk to the stratosphere that he didn't know that girl's full name, or her parentage. You men know as well as I do that legitimate deals mean full disclosure of names and genealogy and exchanging code information.”

I looked at Jack. “Is that what you think, too? That he cut a deal with Iris and her brother, and it blew up on him?”

Jack looked apologetic, but he nodded. “Yeah, sorry, Jim. I like the kid, but I think he screwed up.”

Banks fumbled a cigar one-handed out of his shirt pocket. Mickey lit it for him and I stayed quiet. After he'd breathed out the aromatic smoke he spoke up again, looking directly at Mickey.

“Don't start raising any false hopes. The judge didn't dismiss any charges, so Sandburg's going to get at least twenty years. Mind-wiping is mandatory for any sentence longer than two years.”

His eyes narrowed as he turned his head and gave me an appraising stare. “You seem to have lost the slur in your voice, Detective. I didn't know you were blessed with the ability to detox alcohol from your body so quickly.”

I changed the subject, fast. “Sir, Mickey had something to tell us, so if you don't care...” I raised my eyebrows at Mickey, signaling him to spill whatever was on his mind.

Mickey looked troubled. “I don't know, Jim. It's an angle, but it's not one you're going to like. Look, I'm not advocating that you agree to it. In fact, from what Jack told me flying down here tonight, I'm pretty sure you won't do it, and that's fine. We'd all understand your reasons and accept them. I'm only bringing it up because you've asked me to find a way, any way to help Sandburg.”

I interrupted. “Mickey, for the love of a higher power, would you quit babbling and just say what you need to say?”

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right, I'm going to lay it out for you. Don't shoot the messenger. You told me when I asked about this soul-bond you share with Sandburg, that you were a sentinel and he was a guide. I asked Jack about it, and he confirmed it was true, but that you had been emphatic about not wanting to bond with any guide, including Sandburg. You usually use suppressants, but during the Yana investigation you would at times stop them in order to monitor Sandburg's activities. Is all of this correct, Jim?”

This conversation was sobering me up faster than a cold shower would have done. I nodded, and Mickey went on.

“I've just done a cursory search of the laws pertaining to sentinels and guides. Those laws referring to claiming a guide are archaic, older than our current set of societal laws. As a point of law, this could alter his sentencing.”

I gaped at him, and he rapidly went on.

“If you claim Sandburg as your guide, and we make a case that you began imprinting him while you were off your suppressants, then your claim of him can supersede the usual type of placement. A guide needs his full intelligence to work with a sentinel, so being mind-wiped can be taken off the table. Basically, what I can propose to the judge is that you, a third party, have a legitimate stake in what happens to Sandburg. Even if the judge disagrees, we'd have a reason to appeal and Sandburg's case would be sent up to the appeals court, based not on his own circumstances, but on this point of law. Are you following me on this, Jim? Maybe we should get some kaffee down your throat.”

Jack said, “I'll get a pot going. I need it, even if Jim doesn't.” He pushed his chair back and left the veranda, and I heard him curse as he dropped something in the kitchen.

I said numbly, “In Sandburg's records he's flat out said he doesn't want to be a guide.”

Mickey said gently, “I know, and normally, according to the old ways, the sentinel can claim a guide, but the guide has the right of refusal. However, I think if we are proposing that you claim Sandburg, that due to his conviction he won't get a choice about refusing. Becoming your guide is going to be offered to the court as an alternative to the regular sentencing. The judge might make it mandatory that he serve as your guide for as many years as he would have been given in a more typical placement. In reality, this would be probably be a life sentence for both of you. You are aware of how difficult it is to break a bond after it's been formed, aren't you, Jim?”

I nodded. The changes that occurred after bonding meant that breaking it condemned the sentinel to severe spikes and zones, and for both guide and sentinel, severe depression. Medication might help a little in relieving symptoms, but taking suppressants again wouldn't be possible. Too many changes in the sentinel's bio-chemistry. I had never bothered to find out more than that, since that had been enough to decide me on never bonding in the first place. I didn't know if a second bond could occur, or what happened to sentinels and guides who weren't soul-bonded when their partner died. Could they bond again to a new partner?

Captain Banks spoke up, a firm and no-nonsense tone to his voice. “This is ridiculous. You're asking that Jim reverse a life choice, sentence himself to being co-dependent with this boy for basically the rest of his life. And isn't the bond sexual? He'd be restricted to only having sex with his guide after they bond, right? Sandburg made his bed, now he'll have to lie in it, without dragging Jim into it with him.”

I felt my vision tunnel, heard a rushing in my ears. I felt nauseous, as my stomach tried to turn flip-flops. I'd be sacrificing myself, if I did this. But how could I not do it?

I had saved his life, and my people believed that to do so meant that I was now his Blessed Protector. He was my responsibility. I had forced him to join his soul with mine, and we would have that connection for the rest of our lives. But did I want to live with him as his sentinel? I flashed again on his vibrant manner, the intelligence in his lovely face. I pictured all of that gone, Blair a mindless puppet. Sorrow for him overwhelmed me then, and I made my decision.

I would do it. I would take him, not just his soul, but his body as well. He was going to hate me for the rest of my life, but at least he'd have some sort of a life.

A white noise started to drown out the sound of my friends voicing their opinion of Mickey's suggestion and then Banks laid his large, warm hand on the back of my neck and forced my head down between my knees.

I stayed that way for a long few moments, this position an echo of the one Banks had placed me in following the judge finding Blair guilty.

When I recovered enough, I sat back up and took a deep breath. I caught Banks' eye and held up our joined wrists.

“You can let me go, sir. I swear that I'm not going to run off with Sandburg.”

“But you were planning to, weren't you?”

“Yes, sir. But since I'm going to claim him as my guide, there's no need to do that anymore. Is that kaffee done yet? We've got a lot of details to work out before Blair's sentencing.”

///

 

Blair had barely regained the ability to concentrate on anything without finding something about it hilarious, before he was brought into the court room for his sentencing. There had been no time for Jack or Simon to tell him of the plan to claim him for my guide, so he was going to hear it cold. But surely he would see it as the better option.

We'd tried to come up with answers to any questions that might come up. Blair would be under my supervision. We both would be under Captain Banks' supervision and Blair would work for Major Interplanetary Crime – for free, as part of his community service. I would be responsible for feeding, sheltering, and providing health care as he would be listed as my dependent.

Captain Banks wasn't thrilled about his part, but he'd offered, saying Sandburg could be an errand boy for the department and do janitorial work, when I didn't need him to help me balance my senses. Banks made it clear to me that Blair was not to have access to any actual protector files. I didn't object; it wasn't the right time to promote Blair's many skills. At the very least, we would have an inside informant on how the underbelly of society worked. I hadn't forgotten how many other marginal types had been reported as having some sort of contact with Blair, from bookies to smugglers. I knew his help was going to be invaluable. I figured that given some time, Banks would see for himself how useful Blair would be.

Doctor Mako had been apprised of what Mickey intended to ask for and he'd agreed to provide medical supervision for the actual bonding process. He had come with Blair to the courtroom and sat quietly in the area provided for courtroom staff.

Mickey had doubted that Sandburg would be released before medical proof of bonding had occurred. _I_ doubted even _that_ proof would be sufficient, and I expected that a bone deep tracking device was going to be ordered implanted in Blair, so that his whereabouts would always be known.

The necessary paperwork to petition the court that I was a necessary party in the decision of the court regarding Blair Sandburg's placement, had been done yesterday. Today, the judge would entertain our arguments, so we had a chance to pull this off.

The bailiff announced the judge's arrival and her holo appeared, resulting in people getting to their feet and performing the customary bow of respect towards her.

She looked disgruntled and addressed the room. “In regards to this sentencing hearing, the petition to allow James Joseph Ellison, a sentinel, to claim Blair Sandburg as his guide as an alternate placement will be heard, but first I will allow the defendant's attorney to make her statement.”

I watched from the corner of my eye as Maguire rose smoothly from from her work table and approached the judge, but mostly I watched Blair's reaction.

His mouth had dropped open as he listened to the judge's remark, and he turned around in his seat to stare at me. His eyes looked huge, and I watched him pinch himself.

I sent as strong a feeling of reassurance as I could to him, and in return I felt his bewilderment and confusion, and a flaring of hope that he quickly flayed apart. Then came a flood of suspicion and anger. Well, I had expected that. Blair and I were overdue for a long talk if this scheme worked. But Mickey was confident that we would at least buy some time for an appeal, if nothing else.

Maguire made her pitch short and sweet: the defendant was a young man with no prior record, he had made efforts to work his way out of the bastard class, his judgment had been impaired by his background, and she asked for the mercy of the court.

The judge responded with a lecture. “The very fact that Mr. Sandburg is more intelligent than most unfortunates of the bastard class, and that he had taken the steps necessary to raise himself in society's eyes requires me to hold him to a strict accounting of his actions. He knew very well what he was doing, and he gambled that he could hide the harm he has done to our society. Those victims who ingested Yana that he helped provide cry out to this court for justice, and I shall answer their pleas. This is the sentence Mr. Sandburg will serve, unless Detective Ellison's change of circumstance petition is granted. The defendant will rise and approach the bench. I will tolerate no outcry; this is a courtroom, not a circus.”

Blair rose and straightened his shoulders and looked her right in the eye. He walked forward with a deliberate calm that I alone know was totally false. I was proud of him and scared for him, and it hit me like a ton of bricks that I was in love with him.

“Provisionally, Blair Sandburg, you are sentenced to twenty-five years of convict labor, you will be mind-wiped and placed with--” she stopped for a moment and checked her information, “Cyclops Industries to complete your community service. The modification will take place directly following this hearing and you will be transported to New Rainier to begin your term of indenture. That is, unless Detective Ellison's petition stays the court's ruling.”

Blair was dismissed, and walked steadily back to his chair. She waved at me and Mickey to approach her. “Attorney Renardo, state your case.”

Mickey laid it all out for her, a clear, concise, absolutely reasonable rendition of why exactly James Joseph Ellison, sentinel, should be awarded one Blair Sandburg, guide. He cited laws from ancient tomes, explained how in the course of the investigation I had imprinted on Sandburg due to ending my suppressant's effectiveness. The judge was informed that I was an adopted member of a Sho'nakan tribe, and that when I'd previously looked for a guide with the help of the tribe's shaman, that the search had been unsuccessful. Sandburg was the one I needed for my guide, and guides weren't interchangeable. He ended his case by explaining the soul-bond that had been established between us.

The judge steepled her fingers together and proceeded to grill me.

“Detective Ellison, I will remind you that you are still under oath from your testimony of two days ago.”

I nodded.

“Has Mr. Sandburg asked to be your guide?”

“No, Your Reverence.”

“Previous attempts to locate a compatible guide have all failed?”

“Yes, Your Reverence. I should clarify that my previous search occurred when I had lost my memories and was abandoned in the jungle on Quyllur. After not taking my suppressants, my senses reverted to their natural state while I was living with the Sho'nakan. In order to save my life the shaman of my tribe helped me look for a suitable guide. Several were offered, but none were compatible. I stopped searching when I was found by some Orion's Hunters and my memories were restored. I resumed taking suppressants when I left Quyllur and rejoined my unit.”

“You could take suppressants now and not attempt a sentinel bonding. You are aware of the long term effects of the sentinel/guide bond? You still wish to acquire Mr. Sandburg for your guide?”

“Yes, Your Reverence. I could continue to take the suppressants, but after using my senses when they were enhanced, it would be like cutting all of them in half. I'm very aware of the pros and cons of being an active sentinel and I know how things work for sentinel and guide pairs. I want Blair Sandburg, and only Blair Sandburg, for my guide.”

“What are the effects of this soul-bond, and how did it occur.”

“Ah, I bound him to me when he tried to commit suicide. We were both spirit walking and I guess our souls were drawn together because we could see and talk to each other. I was helped by the shaman I mentioned earlier. He brewed a drink from the sacred plants, and when I drank the stuff I traveled to the spirit world. Sandburg, he's a shaman in training, so he's been learning how to do it on his own. Anyway, I wouldn't let him die. Somehow I merged my soul to his, although I don't know exactly how I did it, and now he can't kill himself because I'm his anchor to this world. It was one-sided, though. He didn't merge his soul with mine. Your Reverence, the effects of the soul-bond are that when we die, hopefully after long lives and by natural causes, we're going to go together. Also we can sense each other's emotions. Doesn't matter how far away we are.”

The judge gave me a long penetrating stare. I stared right back.

“Court is recessed for two hours. Mr. Sandburg is to be taken back to his cell, and the injunction to have no contact with Detective Ellison is still in effect. Attorney Renardo, knowing your reputation for being thorough, I will accept at this time the details of how Mr. Sandburg's proposed placement as Detective Ellison's guide will serve as his punishment from this court. Please turn your report over to the bailiff, and bailiff, I want it sent immediately to my New Rainier office.”

Her holo winked out, and Blair, who was focused on me like I was the only other person in the universe, didn't hear the guards telling him to stand up. He was abruptly yanked up by his arm, and startled, he stumbled along with them out of the courtroom.

To anyone else it would have looked like he hadn't reacted to the judge informing him of what his sentence would be, if my petition was dismissed. Blair was brave, and since I'd foiled his chance at escaping this life, he'd become resigned to his fate, and he wasn't going to cry or rail. That sense of resignation, of a false calm had been strong in him until I'd shook him up by wanting to claim him. His emotions were now a spinning kaleidoscope of furious red, black depression, and bright brief flashes of hope and joy and amazement.

It was going to be a long two hours.

///

 

Turned out it was closer to three hours before court resumed. An adjustment had needed to be made on the roll-through space-time gizmo, so that tessering space could resume and the judge's holo be emitted again.

Jack had dragged me to the room he'd commandeered for his ship-board office during the break. He'd told me briskly that I was helping him do some work to finalize his remaining cases before those perps went to trial. When his cases wrapped up, Jack would be re-assigned to another fringe world, go undercover again to keep tabs on what the criminal element was up to before that world, like Quyllur, finalized joining the compact.

I had been denied contact with Blair, but that meant nothing as far as our soul-bond was concerned. I tried to send him reassurance, a sense that things were going to be all right, that he would be safe and secure, but, damn, I couldn't come right out and lie, so I knew he was also picking up on my anxiety. This had to work. It just had to, or else I'd have to grab him and try and shoot my way off the ship.

Blair kept trying to shut down our connection, but of course he was unsuccessful. The poor kid. He was trying hard to keep it together, but he was so close to just screaming out his outrage about everything that had happened to him. He did manage to finally shove what we were sharing into the back of his mind.

His mind. ... If the judge had left off the mind-wiping part of his sentence, I don't think I would have agreed to the sentinel-guide bond. Instead, I would have kept working to clear his name and get his sentence repealed. Blair was tough; he could have handled doing convict labor until I secured his release. Now, if the judge granted my petition, we were going to be closer, more intimate than most married couples. On the plus side, I was in love with him; however, I wasn't sure I loved him, and I really doubted that he felt either one of those emotions about me. If he did, he was keeping it well hidden.

Oh, I knew he'd been attracted to me, and he'd liked me, back when he thought I was just the muscle for some shady dealers. But he hadn't taken it to the next level, had he? He hadn't asked me to sleep with him. Maybe because the shamans had asked him to be celibate. Or maybe because being attracted to a minor criminal type didn't mean he intended to act on it, because that might jeopardize the plans he'd had for his life.

He was going to have to sleep with me now, if the judge decided to accommodate me. Sex was a part of bonding, at least initially. I didn't know the science of it, not really. Something about orgasms, and the exchange of pheromones making changes in the brain, resulting in dormant genes turning on and inactive glands waking up.

I swore to myself that I would make it good for him. I'd treat him gently, and I'd be a considerate lover.

God, he had to willingly consent to intercourse. I wouldn't blacken my soul by adding rape to the tally of my sins. If he refused me, I'd lose him.

Jack thwacked me on the back of the head with a notebook, as he walked by. I turned around and gave him a “what the fuck” look, and he raised his eyebrows and gave me a concerned glance before tossing his work over to his own desk. Jack was kind of a throw-back in that he liked writing down his notes on actual paper, instead of just entering it into a text file on his slave.

“Ellison, pay attention. You've been staring at that screen for ten minutes, but I don't see any work getting done. C'mon, it's out of your hands now, and you need to stay busy, stay focused. So be a pal, and help me out, finish up that paperwork so a court date can be scheduled.”

There really was nothing I could do, and Jack had been nothing but kind to me since I'd met him. He'd become a good friend, so I gave him a little sketch with my fingers and this time I actually read the text as I completed another one of the endless number of forms that the justice system required.

I continued to do paperwork, until the bailiff commed us and gave us notice that court would be resuming in fifteen minutes.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the court room, waiting to hear what Blair's fate would be.

///

 

We went through the ancient ritual of standing up and bowing when the judge returned. I knew it was meant as a gesture of respect, and I had a distracting thought that Blair would know the history behind it.

I clenched my fists and waited to hear if my sacrifice would be accepted. Blair was biting his lip, but I don't think he realized he was doing it.

At least she wasn't going to drag this out, because she ordered both of us to approach the dais.

“Detective Ellison, Mr. Sandburg. The court accepts Detective Ellison's change of circumstance petition, finding that he does have a significant interest in the disposition of the defendant. However, Detective Ellison must agree to certain terms before the defendant is released into his custody. Above all, Mr. Sandburg is being punished for serious crimes, and he will not be allowed unsuitable privileges.”

She cast a stern glance at me.

“He may only engage in recreational activities of a social nature if you, Detective Ellison, are present. He will be assigned to your work place, under your immediate supervision, and the court accepts Captain Simon Banks' offer to monitor complicity in following the court's orders. Furthermore, as this court has significant concerns about the security of this prisoner since he will not be mind-wiped, he will have a bone beacon installed and travel restricted to established boundaries. Should he have legitimate cause to travel with you beyond the established boundaries, Detective Ellison, you will be required to contact the Department of Community Service and inform them.”

The judge looked at me again to emphasize her point and I realized that she had not even made eye contact with Blair. She continued laying out the conditions of our unorthodox arrangement.

“If you do not accompany him then his caseworker must approve the reason. Should Mr. Sandburg travel alone past the boundaries without permission, he will be taken back into custody until a hearing is established to determine if there was an acceptable excuse for violating his boundaries.”

This time she leveled a firm look at Blair. “The only acceptable excuse I would accept would be if the defendant proved he had been kidnapped. Deliberate transgressions will result in additional punishments to be determined as appropriate by the Department of Community Service. Following today's session, that department will be notified of the court's decision, and a caseworker will be assigned to follow up with Mr. Sandburg's probation placement. If the caseworker determines that this placement has failed, court will reconvene. The likely outcome would be that Mr. Sandburg would be mind-wiped and assigned to a more typical placement.”

The message of _'you played the sentinel card and the court will allow you to keep Sandburg as your guide, but he's still convict labor and you will treat him that way, or the court will take him back'_ was clear to me at least. Blair, not so much. He was listening, but he wasn't really taking in the information. Mostly, he was radiating an overwhelming relief. It was encouraging to know that he didn't absolutely hate the idea of being my guide. Or at least preferred it to being a mind-wiped convict for twenty-five years.

“Detective Ellison, as proposed to this court, you are responsible for your guide's medical needs, and for providing food, clothing, and shelter. His community service hours for Major Interplanetary Crime are to be documented, but any additional credits earned in any other manner are to be turned over to you, and I will allow you to use them for compensation of your guide's care. Keep records. Mr. Sandburg's current bank accounts and property are to be confiscated and turned over to the court for disposition to the Victim's Fund. He may keep his clothing and personal items providing that they fit within the allowed parameters for convict laborers.

The relief that had dominated Blair's emotions receded; I felt his anger and I cautioned him through our bond to not react. The judge could still change her mind about all of this.

“Furthermore, Mr. Sandburg surrenders all of his rights as a citizen of New Rainier, and his code is to be updated with his changed status. Upon the completion of twenty-five years of labor as Detective Ellison's guide, he may resume the privilege of earning his own money, but not be re-instated as a citizen, nor may he break the bond, as this would result in a hardship for Detective Ellison. However, the bone beacon may be removed, and the restrictions on travel will be lifted.”

She picked up the gavel but merely held it. “The court also requires that the sentinel-guide bond be established before Detective Ellison takes full custody of his guide. Captain Banks is to appoint medical staff to monitor and facilitate bonding, and the prisoner is to be held securely until tests show bonding has been completed. The court empowers the medical staff to use whatever means necessary in order to gain the prisoner's cooperation.”

She looked at me again, not Blair. “Detective Ellison, at this time do you have any questions for the court?”

I didn't. All of the court orders would be copied to my slave in triplicate, anyway. The one thing that had surprised me was Blair being ordered to continue the bond even after his sentence was served. I had expected the court to allow him to dissolve it, if that's what he chose to do.

“No, Your Reverence.”

“Detective. You have gone to great lengths to acquire this prisoner as your guide. I hope that you do not have cause to regret it, because the court can and will break the bond, and order him mind-wiped if the prisoner proves totally uncontrollable. And that would have an extremely adverse effect upon you. So control him, or lose him.”

She banged the gavel, the sound echoing like a blaster shot. The bailiff announced that court was dismissed, as the judge's holo disappeared.

I turned and faced Blair. His face was flushing, and his fists were clenching, but I couldn't let him take a swing at me right there in the court room. Later, if he still wanted to do it, I'd let him. But in public, especially at first, he was going to have to show me respect. It would please the judge to be told my guide was out of control, and that mind-wiping was the best option after all.

I spoke to him quietly, hoping to avoid attention. “Blair, use your head and think. Stay calm, do as you're told, and we'll make the best of this situation. Later, when we're alone, you can blow up all you want. But not now, understand?”

He nodded, taking a few deep breaths. He stepped back from me, and while I could guess it was because he didn't want to be within swinging distance, it still felt like a rejection, one that I truly didn't expect to feel. He looked at me, eyes widening, and bit his lip again. I wanted to take my finger and soothe it; I wanted him to relax and trust me that I would make things okay for him.

Simon put an end to our awkwardness. He stepped up and took Blair by the arm, and with a practiced motion, placed lockers on his wrists.

“Sandburg, we're going along with Dr. Mako to the infirmary and see what he advises. Jim, get what you need from your quarters and get set up in secure room three. Let's get this bonding done as fast as possible, so that things can go back to normal around here. I'll comm you when Sandburg's ready.”

Blair was towed away by Simon. I think he was still a little in shock, judging from what I could feel from him.

I was going to bond to a guide. My life would never be the same again, and right now, while I thought it had been the right thing to do, I wasn't feeling very happy.

And neither was Blair.

I hoped I hadn't made a huge mistake. I left the court room, and after a detour to my quarters, I entered the room where Blair and I would be locked in. No doubt we would not be allowed to leave until we'd had sex, lots of sex, and triggered the bonding reflexes.

I sat down on the bed, and waited for my unwilling guide.


	4. Part Four

Soon after I'd dropped onto the bed in this colorless, gray room, the doctor commed me and explained that Blair was being prepped for surgery in order to install the beacon. It would be attached to his right femur, and no cheap medical hack would be able to cut it loose; it would take a medical facility similar to the ship's infirmary to free him from it. But he would not have to be anesthetized, except for a local.

“Should I come down there, Doc?” I wasn't sure if that would make things worse or easier for Blair.

“That's not necessary at all, Detective. Your guide will be in good hands. Please, excuse me for being blunt for a moment, but how knowledgeable are you regarding the bonding process? Beyond knowing that a sentinel and guide have sex to initiate the first steps, that is?”

“I have the basic idea down.”

“Well, I have some resource information on the process that I'd recommend you review, preferably before your guide is sent to you. I'll also transmit his after-care instructions for ensuring his thigh heals correctly; he should stay off his leg as much as possible for two days. The information will be downloaded to your slave right away, and if you have any questions regarding your guide's health, please let me know. I'll give him something to help him relax, and it won't wear off till morning. He may have another dose at that time, if you find it helpful. Just remember that you'll need to be careful about jarring his leg too much, but your guide may engage in the more passive sexual positions.”

“Sandburg. Blair Sandburg.” I pronounced his name slowly, enunciating clearly.

“Excuse me?” The doc sounded baffled.

“You keep referring to him as 'my guide.' He hasn't lost his name, you know.” _No, he's just lost almost everything else, though, hasn't he?_

“All right, Detective Ellison. Since referring to him by his designation irks you, I'll try and remember your preference for his name. I'm sending you that information now, and Captain Banks will escort him to your current quarters when he's recovered from the surgery.”

He ended the call, and true to his word my slave announced an incoming text comm in the following minute.

I read it over twice. It didn't matter who topped, or whether or not there was penetrative anal sex. Hand jobs, blow jobs, they'd all do the trick, as long as we were in very close body contact when we orgasmed, which would release pheromones specific to sentinels and guides.

Pheromones crisscrossing back and forth, me to him, him to me, would let our brains know it was time to wake up glands that been asleep till now. They'd pump out chemical messages to every part of our bodies, nerve receptors in the brain included, with the end result that after repeating the experience enough times to establish a permanent connection, we'd have a low level of telepathy as well as the empathy from the soul bond.

Oh, and we would have become addicted to each other. Only Blair would satisfy my body from now on, sex with others would just feel off, and orgasms would only be possible with him now. I couldn't even pleasure myself, and that struck me as incredibly unfair. Why in the name of the lowest level of perdition had the ancestors who'd done the genetic adjustments set the bond up this way? The idiots had taken a natural attraction between sentinels and guides and ramped it up, resulting in this restrictive co-dependence. Also, in order to keep from going into withdrawal from each other, we'd have to touch a lot, stay physically close, sleep together cuddled up, if we didn't have sex every few days.

I wanted to feel close to Blair. After all, I'd been attracted to him since I'd seen his holo the first time, but I had imagined being Blair's lover, not his sentinel. I could have had sex with him safely if I'd been taking my suppressants. I'd stopped when Mickey had proposed claiming Blair as my guide to the judge, and now not only would I be able to bond but my senses were sharpening again. I could hear people talking, moving around, machinery, doors opening and closing, and I wondered how Blair's surgery had gone. I concentrated and imagined my hearing following a path through the maze of halls until I'd come to the infirmary. I heard the doctor's voice, and then the whine of medical instruments and Blair's soft murmur telling the doctor that he couldn't feel the touch on his leg. Then there was the sound of his flesh opening up, and I fell into that sound, knowing that I was starting to zone but I couldn't stop myself. I felt much like a drowning person does, knowing they are going under but helpless to stop it.

///

 

Burbling sounds floated at the edge of my consciousness, persistent, annoying noises that became louder and louder, and I slowly became aware that I was being shaken. The sounds resolved into speech and I realized that Captain Banks had his hand on my shoulder and was calling my name.

“Ellison, you've got two minutes before your ass gets hauled down to the infirmary. Now wake up!”

I found myself able to move again, and I grabbed his hand before he could resume shaking me again. “I'm okay now, sir.”

“Are you sure? That was a zone, wasn't it? I've been trying to bring you out of it for the last five minutes. What set you off?” Banks moved to a nearby chair and lowered himself into it.

I sighed. “I just meant to try out my hearing, but I took it too far. I was listening to Blair before he had his surgery and the last thing I remember was hearing him being cut open. I should comm the doctor, see how he's doing. I won't risk falling into a zone again, since until Blair and I bond I'm going to be a lot more vulnerable to them.”

Simon waved his hand, dismissing my concern. “He's fine. In fact, he's the reason I'm here. He started pitching a fit during his surgery; once the doctor realized that he wasn't upset about the beacon being implanted, but that he thought something was wrong with you, I was commed and asked to investigate, since you didn't respond when Sandburg insisted you needed to be commed.”

I raised my eyebrows. Huh. “He must have felt me fading out through our soul-bond. Is he in recovery now from the surgery?”

“Yes, he should be. He's got to wait for another four hours before the doc will release him, though. Why don't you sack out, since you look kind of beat.”

“Maybe I should go and see Blair for myself.”

“The doctor said to remind you that Blair would rest better if you weren't there to stir him up. It's just four hours, Jim. Get some rest; when Sandburg is released I'll escort him up here. Then it'll be up to you to take over.”

I did feel tired. The times that I'd zoned before I'd noticed this same reaction. You didn't rest in a zone – you were pumping energy into observing whatever miniscule thing had captured your attention.

“Okay, Captain Banks. And thanks for helping out.”

“My name's Simon; when we're off duty, why don't you call me by it?”

I grinned. “Call me Jim whenever you want. Do you really think it's better for me to wait here and not with Blair? We've got a lot to talk about.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I suppose you do. That's why you're going to wait until you've got privacy. You go down to the infirmary now and you might set that kid off. The doctor wants him to stay quiet for now. You can 'talk' to him for the next couple of days. That's how long it's going to take to secure the bond between you and him, right? Just nod your head, Jim. I don't really want to know the details. The doctor will check you both in a couple of days, and see if the bond is working. See that it is. Now get some rest.”

He left then and I undressed and slid under the covers. I checked on how Blair was doing, and he felt calm, relaxed. Ah, the doctor had him drugged then. He was almost asleep; yawning, I closed my eyes to rest them while Blair slept.

///

 

It only took one look at Blair's blown pupils as Simon pushed Blair's wheelchair over next to the bed for me to comm the doctor.

While I was waiting for Dr. Mako to answer, Simon dumped a duffel on the floor and placed a clear bag which held assorted ampules and pill bottles in it on the bedside table. He looked uncomfortable and retreated next to the door. He probably wanted to relay some instructions on Blair's medical needs, but I held up a hand to stop him.

“Hang on, Simon. I want to find out what in perdition Blair's on.”

“I can answer for myself, you know.” Blair's voice was sultry, pouty, and he was staring at me, licking his lips just as slowly as he'd spoken.

What was taking the doctor so long to respond?

Blair locked the wheelchair's brakes, and then lifted himself up and onto the bed, sprawling out, adjusting pillows under his head and leg.

“C'mon, Jim,” he drawled, his voice all dark smoke. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He started stroking his erection, which had been straining the fabric of his knee length sleepers since he'd entered our quarters.

“We could discuss how the drug cocktail cooked up by Dr. Mako has gotten my receptors for oxytocin and vesopressin to be really, really happy since I'm overloaded on bonding hormones, not to mention the cherry on top of the aphrodisiac he gave me, or we could skip the technical jargon and you could just get undressed and let me see what you've got, Ellison, because you know, I've wanted a good look at you since you wined and dined me. No wait, that wasn't you treating me to a sort of date, that was you setting me up to get fucked. Well, congratulations - it worked. So c'mon, and do it. Fuck me. I'll even enjoy it. Just hurry up because I'm ready to burst. But don't worry. The doctor told me I'll have a quick recovery time.”

My comm finally connected. “Hello, this is Dr. Mako,” and I ignored Blair's drugged babbling to find out why he had been sent to me this way.

Unfortunately, while the good doctor defended his treatment, stating that he considered it more humane to relax and encourage Mr. Sandburg to accept the inevitable without any more stress or possibly injuring himself by resisting sexual advances from me, Blair had started in on Simon, since I wasn't responding to him.

“What about you, Captain Banks? Hanging around to see if Jim will share? Sorry, but bonding is a one-on-one kind of thing. No threesomes. But hey, maybe Jim invited you to watch, right? I mean, you are going to be observing us, making sure the guide behaves himself, and that the sentinel is treating him the way he should. Oh, and I'll be another one of your men, won't I, since I'll be with Jim while he's working. And when Jim doesn't need me at his beck and call, why I just bet you'll find other things for me to do. But Jim won't like it if you call me into your office to suck your cock, he'll be able to tell and it will make him cranky. It won't do anything for me, either, because from now on I'm a one man guy. But don't let me get distracted. We were talking about you watching him fuck me, only he'd rather talk on the comm, and you're being so patient waiting for him, so I think you deserve a little reward. So watch this, Captain, My Captain.”

Blair sat up on the bed and untied the loose shift that served as a shirt and slid it off of his shoulders. He pinched one of his nipples, made it hard and dark with blood.

“Sandburg, just stop. I need to talk to Jim for a moment, then I'm out of here and you'll have privacy.” Simon sounded embarrassed and annoyed.

The doctor was telling me how long the 'treatment' he'd ordered was going to last and that there was more of the same in the ampules he'd sent along with Captain Banks.

Blair gave a sexy moan and touched his other nipple, teasing it, and then instead of stopping his little strip tease, he lifted himself up enough to slide his sleepers off, leaving him bare, showing us how ready he was for sex.

Simon growled, “Cover that up, Sandburg. I'm not interested and you can damn well wait for Jim before you turn into a slut.”

Blair just laughed, sounding merry and carefree, and his busy hands were cupping his balls and stroking his dick. Simon pointed to the door. I nodded to let him know I understood, and he stepped out into the hall. We'd talk out there when I was done with the doctor.

“Oh, well, maybe the good captain will feel more like being a voyeur next time. Jimmmm, hurry up! Or this party's going to start without you, and that will waste one perfectly good orgasm since you won't be close enough to suck up all my floaty little bonding pheromones. I've had quite the education down in the infirmary, you know. Dr. Mako, my pal, made sure I knew what to expect and how to act. I told him I didn't want any help, but he said he was the doctor and I was the patient and that he knew best. Legally he can stick anything he wants into my body and my bloodstream, because you know, I'm just convict labor now. But at least I'm still myself, and I'd give you a blow job just for that, Jim. My sentinel. You're stuck with me now, and I have to wonder – why? Why'd you stop me from killing myself, and why do you care if I get mind-wiped and why do you want me for a guide? I mean, you're a fine looking man, and if you'd wanted a guide why didn't you do it years ago?”

He started to breath more heavily and I could smell his arousal, it was so strong. But it was tainted, too. There was no way I was going to have sex with him in this state. The doctor had confirmed what Blair had said. Blair hadn't given permission to be drugged like this; the doctor hadn't even asked him.

I had no more questions for the doctor after he explained about the aphrodisiac, and I quickly ended our conversation. What was done was done, and I understood why Dr. Mako had made that decision. In a way, I think he was fond of Blair, and he thought drugging him into compliance until the bond was established would make it easier on Blair to become my guide.

My guide. Well, my guide was about to explode with an orgasm, and I was going to have to stop him. Dr. Mako, once he understood I was opposed to having sex with Blair in this state, warned me that if Blair came the aphrodisiac would affect me as well. The drug in Blair's body would change as he came and he would expel it through his breath and pores. It would be very hard for me to resist having sex with Blair, once it hit me. There was a street version of this drug called Orgy Fun, and sometimes vindictive people would drug up some poor person and turn them loose at a party. Before the fun had ended anybody who'd stuck around would have had sex at least once, usually with the original victim. There was a prevention patch that you could wear, if you wanted to be very sure that nobody could drug you like that, but Dr. Mako didn't have one in the infirmary at this time.

So I was going to have to take drastic action. Blair was whining to himself, the hand on his dick taking off in velocity, and he seemed beyond the point of trying to entice me to join him. I strode to the bed, shoved the wheelchair out of the way, and picked him up. I carried him to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, setting him on his feet. With one arm around his waist to support him, I changed the switch from sonic to cold water and let the blast of icy water deluge both of us.

Blair hollered and made enough racket to wake the dead, including cursing me with increasingly inventive fervor, but I just held tight to him and let the cold water do its job. He did get the worst of it, since he was in front of me. We were both shivering hard but he'd gone limp – all of him -- and quiet when I finally turned off the water. Then I explained why I had done what I did.

I helped him out of the shower still holding him around the waist, and grabbed a towel and handed it to him.

He promptly dropped it. He looked so miserable, shaking, his lips a bluish shade, that I picked it up, laid it on the closed toilet seat and then deposited him on top of it. Then I wrapped him up tight in several towels before stripping my own wet clothes off and drying myself.

“And they call me a bastard,” he mumbled. He swayed and almost toppled over.

I helped him stand and after he almost face-planted on the floor again, even with me supporting him still, I philosophically picked him up again. He thumped me on the chest in protest, but he couldn't put enough force in it for it to hurt.

I deposited him on the bed and then I unwrapped the damp towels from him and redressed him in the white sleepers he'd arrived in. He cooperated. Sort of. I was drying his hair when he reached out and took my dick in his hand.

“Once upon a time, I wanted to do this, you know.” He was still shaking hard, and his lips remained tinged with blue. I gently disengaged his hand, and then went back to drying his mop of curls. Damn stuff took forever to get mostly dry, and I worked in silence, Blair's eyes becoming wet and shiny. When I was done playing hair dresser, I laid my hand on the back of his neck, and he looked up at me. He was beautiful, his eyes so blue and wide, and I felt heartsick for him.

“We have to bond, Blair. Or you'll go to one of the prison factories or farms and have about enough brain cells left to drool happily when somebody pats you on the head.” I shifted my hand to tug the covers free from under his body, and then I checked his surgery scar. It was small, and it was the warmest spot on his body, red and angry looking. Synthetic skin had been layered over the incision and I rooted around in the bag of supplies the doctor had sent along. I applied topical anesthetic, and stuck on a large band-aid over it, then handed him an antibiotic and a pain med. He looked at them dubiously. “It's just regular meds, Blair, to prevent any infection, plus a pain reliever, but the pain med is optional, if you don't want it.”

He sighed and dry swallowed them, then hugged himself, still shivering.

“I wish I could use some of the remedies the shamans were teaching me, instead of these, but I guess that's not practical right now.”

“At least the pills don't taste bad. Every remedy Incacha ever gave me tasted foul. But they did work, even if my mouth felt like something crawled inside and died.”

Blair smiled a little. Then he frowned. “Incacha? I haven't met him yet but I've heard of him. You know him?”

“It's a long story, Chief, and I'll be happy to tell it to you. But first let's get you comfortable. Uh, I have to do something to you and you may not like it, but for tonight it's necessary. That cold shower knocked back the love-drug the doc gave you but it's likely to come back with a vengeance when you warm back up. Before you nod off, though, I think we both could do with a hot drink.”

I pulled the covers over him and he turned on his side, watching me while I made two cups of Melana, a hot drink that was supposed to help with sleep. It was tasty, and I thought Blair would like it. He'd drunk a lot of different types of teas when we were out in the jungle together.

“Jim, how mad do you think Captain Banks is going to be? I mean, that drug kind of lowers inhibitions – a lot, apparently – and I said some things to him that he didn't like. He's probably really disgusted with me. He'll have me scrubbing toilets to teach me some respect, I guess.”

Shit. Simon. I'd forgotten about him, but I needed to finish taking care of Blair first and put back on some clothes.

I brought over the Melana and Blair sat back up to drink it. I looked at his eyes. Still dilated. That drug was going to be in his system all night long and he was going to want sex again as soon as he was good and warm. And sex just couldn't happen.

I drank my own drink quickly, and then I looked through Blair's duffel. There were several changes of clothing, including a bathrobe with a tie. I picked up the belt and felt it; the material was soft and long enough for what I wanted. We'd try it out and if it couldn't hold Blair securely, then I'd comm for bondage restraints. I didn't really want to do that. The Pride of Cascade was no more immune to gossip than any other place I'd been stationed, and Blair and I were no doubt the top story right now. Knowing that I'd used bondage gear on my guide would just add fuel to that fire. But I thought the belt would do the trick just fine.

I took Blair's empty cup from him and efficiently bound his wrists together with the soft material and then tied the free ends below the bed. Blair could move his hands up his body, but he couldn't reach his dick.

“No, Jim, don't say it. I get it. This way I can't jack myself back up and put you at risk of having sex with me. Although? Why not? Why are you waiting? Just fuck me and get it over with. I consent, okay?”

I shook my head. “You're still drugged, Blair, although that cold shower sobered you up a bit. I'm not going to fuck you or jerk you off when you can't really consent. That would be rape.”

Blair laughed, a bitter tinge to it. “You might as well, man. I've been fucked over so much lately that another round won't even matter.”

“No. We'll talk again in the morning. I am going to sleep with you, because you're still cold, but we're not having sex tonight.” I brushed my fingers over his forehead. “I'm going to see if Simon is still waiting for me outside, and then we're both going to bed. You get some sleep, and I'll keep watch.”

“God, I was in torment before when you wouldn't touch me. What if I get like that again? You can fuck me, Jim. I don't even care anymore.”

“That's why, Blair. I want you to care and I want this to be consensual between us. If you get too horny, I'll dump your cute little ass back in the shower.”

He groaned and flopped back down on the bed. I got an extra blanket out of a closet and placed it over him. His eyes were getting hazy and I learned over and kissed him on the forehead. He wrinkled up his nose and I thought he looked adorable. I really was in love with him.

“You're kind of a sap, aren't you, Jim? I should be furious with you right now, because if you hadn't arrested me I wouldn't be in this fix, and I can promise you I will be pissed at you later, but not now. Must be the bonding drugs...” He dozed off and I touched the electric collar that was still around his neck. He wouldn't be taken off of suicide watch until medical tests showed that the bond was in effect.

I dressed and opened the door; Simon was still waiting for me. I apologized for keeping him waiting, and he rolled his eyes.

“That kid has a mouth on him. I know he was under the influence, but you let him know that he'd better toe the line with me when he's working with you.”

“He's afraid you're going to make him scrub toilets as a penance.”

Simon gave a snort of laughter. “I think I'll mention it when I go over what I expect from him. Get some payback for all that porn talk he was spouting on the way over here and for what he said in your room. And Jim, just for the record, I don't ever want to watch you and the kid having sex. Just so you know.”

“Well, we didn't. Have sex, I mean. He can't give consent in that state, and I had to give him a cold shower to keep him from coming, or I'd have been drugged, too. The doc gave him the medical version of Orgy Fun.”

“You really think it's going to be easier on the two of you when the drugs wear off?”

“No. But there are some lines I won't cross and rape is one of them. Sex without informed consent is rape, that's the legal definition and I hold to it.”

“Okay, Jim. I wanted to explain about how the beacon is going to work, Blair's already on the map, and I'm going to station a guard outside these doors until the bond is complete. Beacon or not, I don't trust Sandburg to not make a run for a fringe world outside of our jurisdiction, if he can. So, stay alert, all right?”

Simon spent some time giving me information then, and he commed for a guard to take over for him. I thanked him for his assistance and quietly went back inside.

Blair was asleep, but as I slid into bed and wrapped my arms around him – he was still cold – I noticed that his cock was half-erect. I couldn't let him come, not even in his sleep, so I geared myself up to stay awake while I cuddled him.

It felt right to me to hold him in my arms. I risked a small kiss to the back of his neck, pushing aside the heavy mass of hair.

He would be my guide. I'd wanted him as a lover, but I'd take him as my guide. He would adapt, and I'd treat him well. I wouldn't make him feel like he was my personal body slave, although I was sure that was how he was going to be viewed by others.

His case was not closed. Not to me. I'd find who was behind the Yana trade, and clear Blair's name. At least when I proved his innocence, he'd still have a mind and could reclaim some of his life back.

I could only hope that he wouldn't break the bond. But that fear wouldn't stop me from helping him. Even If he later rejected me and left me a broken sentinel and him a damaged guide.

///

 

We had two more rounds of cold showers before Blair's eyes returned to normal. He'd taken a swing at me when I put him into the shower for the last time, but although he'd landed a solid blow, it didn't stop me from forcing him to sit down on the floor of the stall before I turned on the icy water.

I was tired, and I was glad that I'd gotten some sleep earlier yesterday. Poor Blair had come out of the shower both times almost crying, but he hadn't let himself do it. I wish that I hadn't had to practically torture him, but he'd been humping the sheets and trying to squirm on top of me to trigger an orgasm.

Oh, the words that had come out of that sweet mouth. Holy Higher Powers, I seriously had thought I might have to gag him before he got me to come without my dick even being touched, and it would hardly be fair for me to have the pleasure that I was denying to Blair.

When his pupils were normal again, I untied his hands and wrapped myself around him again and gratefully started to drift off, and Blair, who'd hardly had a restful night, gave a great sigh and totally relaxed against me.

“You're a dick, Ellison.”

“I know. But I'm your dick. Wait. That didn't come out right.”

The last thing I remembered before I was totally out was Blair's surprised chuckle. It was a good sound. I hoped I'd be hearing a lot of it.

///

 

We both slept till early afternoon. I woke up first, and commed for some food to be sent in, and then took a hot shower. Blair was still asleep, and I watched him as he struggled back to consciousness, remembering the time spent in the jungle together. Blair waking up had always amused me back then.

But I wasn't feeling any amusement at the moment. We needed to talk, and we needed a plan. So far, I'd concentrated on trying to find evidence to clear him. I'd failed, but that didn't mean I wouldn't keep trying. _We_ could keep trying. If Blair was totally honest with me perhaps there were clues he could tell me that could get us back on track with finding the real culprits.

We needed to hammer out our own private agreement about how to handle the sentinel and guide relationship. In addition to our own personal arrangement, we couldn't forget about what the court had demanded we do, either. Blair would have a caseworker, and if that person didn't feel Blair was being an appropriate guide, then we would find ourselves back in court and Blair most likely would not be given a second chance as my guide. He'd be mind-wiped and become just another convict laborer on one of the many incarceration farms or factories.

We needed to bond, and Blair had to give consent. I thought that he would – the emotions I'd received from him all indicated a loathing of being mind-wiped and baffled gratitude that I'd supplied him with another option. Still. Bonding. Tying our lives together when neither one of us had ever wanted that kind of constriction with a lover.

He was bound to ask me why I'd done it. He'd be able to tell if I outright lied. So maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should take the risk of rejection and tell him the truth -- that I was in lust, in love with him.

Love makes people do crazy stuff. Everybody knew that. But I knew it wasn't reciprocal. Blair didn't love me, and he wasn't in love with me. But maybe he'd grow into it.

Maybe just me being in love with him would be enough to make this work.

Blair sat up and yawned and rubbed his eyes. It was cute, and it made me smile. Things like that were why I'd fallen for him. However, I knew him well enough to know that if I told him why I was smiling at him right now, he'd want to throw another punch at me.

I didn't enlighten him.

He staggered out of bed and put weight on his leg, and then went a little white and sat back down abruptly on the bed. I went over to him and took a look, pulling down his sleeping pants. The skin still looked red, but it looked to me to be healing okay.

“Did you forget the doc said to stay off that leg for two days? Hmm... Why didn't he give you crutches?” I hoisted him up and supported him as we made our way to the bathroom.

“Guess he thought I didn't really need them, since he expected me to be horizontal and getting fucked for the next couple of days.” Blair sounded matter-of-fact, but I sensed the bitterness his tone concealed.

“I'll have some sent up for you. Are you hungry? A meal is on its way.” Since we were in the bathroom, I asked, “Do you want to take a hot shower?”

“Oh, I think I'm clean enough, don't you?” Blair said dryly.

“You do know that I wouldn't have made you take those cold showers if it wasn't necessary, right?”

“Yeah, I do. Now, unless you want to help me pee, and I'm not judging if that's a kink of yours, I think I can manage in here by myself.”

I left him holding onto the sink, told him I'd already put his stuff in the cabinet and to holler when he was done.

///

 

Blair swallowed the last of his sandwich, and wiggled on the bed until he was comfortable again, supported by pillows. He patted the space next to himself, inviting me join him. I did.

“Jim, I gotta ask. Why? Why did you target me? Why claim me as your guide? Why in the name of perdition do you care what happens to me?”

So I told him. I explained how I'd been brought into the case because I had once lived with the Sho'nakan people and that I was just following orders when I'd gotten to know him.

“I didn't come up with your name, Blair. You were already the main suspect, and we need to talk more about how that might have occurred, see if we're missing something. But later, okay?”

Might as well throw all my credits down on the table and answer his other questions.

“I liked how you looked when I first saw your holo, but after I met you I was conflicted, because I was attracted to you, a suspected criminal. Not just because you're a beautiful man – yes, you are, now quit making faces, I'm talking here – I liked _you_. I fell in love with you, and when it looked like you were guilty of smuggling the plants I was so disappointed in you and also myself, for allowing myself to have feelings at all about a criminal I caught with his hand in the till. But to be honest, I wouldn't have asked you to be my guide if you hadn't been arrested. I wanted us to be lovers, sure, but for me to become a sentinel again? No. I didn't want that. But that was the only way we – Mickey and I – could find to keep you from being mind-wiped. Me to claim you, because those old laws, if you remember the arguments in court, have precedence.”

Blair was silent for a while and I waited for his reaction. He grasped my hand in his. Finally, he spoke up. “Jim, do you think I'm guilty?”

“No. Well, I did at first, but now I think you were set up to take the fall for somebody else.”

“If you thought I was guilty would you have still claimed me for your guide?”

That was a good question. I cleared my throat before I answered. “Yes. Because the man I'd gotten to know might have made mistakes, but he would never intentionally do harm, so if you had been the one smuggling the plants it would have meant you didn't understand the ramifications of what you'd done.”

“Wow. I'm... I don't know how to react to that. But you wouldn't have asked me to be your guide except to save my ass?”

“True. But Blair, I'm asking you now. Will you be my guide?”

He shoved my hand away. “Of course I'm going to say 'yes.' What's my other options? You took away my choice to die. The court will take away my mind, my personality, if I turn you down. Because after last night, I get it. You're not going to just take me, like some barbarian raider. I have to agree, and I can't even tell myself that it was because of the drugs. No, I have to tell you I'll be your guide cold-stone sober. So, Jim, I'm saying yes. Yes. You can fuck me. Yes, I agree to the sentinel bond. Yes, I'll live with you and sleep with you and work with you and I'll do my best to be a good guide, because I know you didn't have to do this for me, and you're like some fairytale hero, sacrificing your independence to rescue me, and hey, you totally should have some sex as a reward, and it's funny, in a way, because so many people have assumed I'm a piece of change and I just ignored them, but this time, I'm thinking I will feel like a whore, because you're paying me by letting me keep my mind in one piece, and hey, I'm grateful and I'll be happy to blow you or you can fuck me, and maybe you've got a few kinks and I'll do those, too. Do you want to piss on me? Put me in bondage gear? Did you have fun tying me up last night? Whatever you want, Jim. It's all for sale, but only to you from now on. So I'm saying yes. So let's not waste any more time, do you want me on my hands and knees, or with my legs drawn up to my chest? Want my mouth on your dick? Whatever you want, Jim.”

His breath was hitching by the time he'd finished his diatribe.

“C'mere, you poor kid.” I pulled him to me and held him as he finally let himself cry. It wasn't pretty, the way he sobbed and he had to blow his nose a few times, but eventually the tears stopped running down his face.

“Now do you want that hot shower?” He nodded, and I helped him into the shower. “Do you want me to keep you company?” He shook his head and I left him to have some privacy.

Blair didn't love me, but he was good-hearted. I knew he'd do his best to make me not regret claiming him.

We'd talk some more after he had a chance to regain his composure. I'd explain how he and I could work together, and how that this wasn't a one-sided deal. I'd be gaining mastery over my senses, and being in physical contact with him would greatly alleviate spikes and zones. Also, the telepathy we would have would allow him to bring me out of a zone when mere touching didn't work.

He'd said yes. He would be safe now, with me.

The door to the bathroom opened and Blair stood there, wet and naked. “Jim, can you get me that bathrobe?”

I brought it to him and helped him back to the bed and made him comfortable. I propped myself up on the bed, but left some space between us. I opened up myself to sense his feelings, and he was tired again, and I felt no spark of sexual interest within him at all.

Okay. I had to only think about how wanton he'd acted yesterday and I could feel my own arousal rising. Blair glanced at me with resignation; he'd read my feelings. “I can always take that drug again, if you want me to.”

That statement acted like a cold shower on my own desire. “No. I want the real thing, and I'll wait for it. Let's just relax, okay? Want to play Eight Card Lose 'Em, or watch a holo-movie? Blair shook his head.

“Maybe later. Why don't you tell me how you ended up with the Sho'nakan, and how you know Incacha. He's a very respected shaman, and I had been invited to sit at his campfire and learn from his wisdom. I'm sorry that I'll never be able to do that now, or finish my studies.”

“I don't see why not. After all, it will be expected for Enqueri to return home so all can meet his guide. We can stay as long as you like, if Simon agrees. I've got tons of vacation time I've never taken, and you could work on your doctorate. But will the university still accept you or will you get booted out on a morals clause?”

“Oh, they'll cut me loose. But I still want to complete my work anyway. I'm stubborn that way.”

“I noticed.”

“You're not supposed to agree with me, you're supposed to tell me that you never thought of me as being stubborn.”

I snorted and pulled him nearer to me, my arm loosely around his shoulders.

“Shush now, and I'll tell you the story of how James Joseph Ellison, one of Orion's Hunters, was betrayed and left mind-wiped on the planet Quyllur.”

I felt a rush of sympathy from him, and I tucked him close under my chin, so I could play with his hair while I told him of my past.

///

 

“I wish I could meditate.” Blair sounded wistful, and I nuzzled his hair. He'd scooted around so that he was sitting in front of me, my thighs cradling his body. I was enjoying how his body had relaxed against mine. “There's so much for me to process. I need to accept this, this...” His hands expanded to show how huge the changes to his life had become.

“You'll be off suicide watch and the collar removed as soon as we've finished bonding. Be patient, Qhusi.”

“Chief, Qhusi... you really like nicknames, don't you?”

“Well, you do have blue eyes, Qhusi.”

“So do you, Enqueri.”

“Mine aren't beautiful like yours are, mine are just this washed out blue. Your color is deeper, and richer, the color of the ocean here on Quyllur, and I sometimes think I could drown in them.”

Blair smacked my leg. “I had no idea you were so mushy. I mean, you look tough as nails and the way you can glare at a guy – well, whenever you aimed that look at me it rattled me bad -- and all those muscles of yours... Does Captain Banks know your true identity?”

“After how I've mooned about you, yeah, I guess he does. So does Jack. I don't give a fuck. I want everyone we work with to know that I care about you, and if they try to mess with you I'll be coming after them.” I dropped a kiss on his neck, near his ear, and Blair shivered.

“Well, I guess I can't let you be out there on a limb of mushiness all by yourself. I happen to think your eyes are nice, too. I like their color – I'd call them ice-blue, or the color of the winter sky on New Rainier.”

Blair snuggled himself a little closer to me, and I started to trail my hand up and down his thigh.

“How did I know your Sho'nakan name was Enqueri? Did you tell me? No, wait.”

He sat up straighter. “When we met on the spirit plane, I just knew your name. Jim. It's incredible that we did that. Were you looking for me? I remember I was doing a ritual cleansing under a waterfall, and then I could see you watching me. You chased me, after I decided to die, and you took me. Huh. You wouldn't have sex with me last night, even after I told you to go ahead, because you thought I couldn't give consent. But you soul-bonded me, and I sure as perdition is fiery didn't give consent then.”

He had half turned in my arms so he could look at my eyes. “I mean, now I'm glad you stopped me, but back then, what gave you the right to do that?”

“Maybe I'm more of a barbarian than you thought?”

He lightly smacked me again, and I grabbed his hand and brought it up to my lips and kissed his palm.

“Blair, Qhusi. I just couldn't let you die. I'd do it again if it meant saving you. But I'm sorry that it was necessary. I'm sorry that you hate being tied to my soul. But I'm not sorry I did it, and I guess saving your life trumps ethics.”

He relaxed back against me. “Jim, I've never met anybody like you. Nobody I've ever dated, or slept with, or been friends with has taken the risks for me that you have. It's kind of scary in a way. I'm afraid that in the end you won't think I've been worth all the trouble you've put yourself through for me.”

“See, Chief, none of those other people fell in love with you like I have.” I kissed his neck. “Someday I hope you'll love me back.”

This time he found and lifted my hand and kissed it.

“I won't try and spin the truth for you, Jim, so you think I'm saying what you want to hear. I feel it would be really wrong, and anyway, it wouldn't work, would it? I can feel your emotions and you can feel mine. Holy Higher Powers, that was so strange when I understood that it was your emotions, not mine, that was in the back of my head. For a while, I wondered if I was going crazy, or crazier. How did you react?”

“Well, I lucked out because Incacha explained it to me, after I returned from the spirit plane and told him what I'd done.”

“I want to meet him. Now, how are we going to slant this visit to your folks so that my caseworker from Community Service okays me going along with you?”

We spent some time discussing strategies for gaining the maximum amount of allowed freedom for Blair, and then we slid into making out.

Blair had initiated it, murmuring to me that he'd been celibate for so long and now that he could have sex, and there was this guy right here that he'd been wanting to fuck for months, why not get started?

That mouth of his ought to be registered as a deadly weapon the way he   
wielded it. He told me in that dark, smoky tone of voice he'd used yesterday, just how much he enjoyed touching various parts of my body.

I let him pull off my sleepers and run his pretty mouth while I stretched out so that he could reach all of me with his hands. I enjoyed that, and I made appreciate sounds, which made him smile and try touching me in new places, but when he started nuzzling at my dick, I stopped him.

My turn.

I pulled his bathrobe off and I mapped him, with my mouth and with my hands; I held his hands in one of mine, above his head, flat on the bed, so he couldn't move them while I let my mouth descend on his and I silenced him, because when I allowed him to talk again I only wanted to hear broken gibberish and my name. I had pinned him with my leg and I loved feeling him squirm against me. After I'd ravished his mouth till all I could feel from him was a glorious mess of need and frustration, I moved to his nipples, and yes, his ability to form sentences had gone, but I wanted to take him even lower. So I tongued my way down to his dick and I lapped at it, teasing him, sometimes sliding it into my mouth and hollowing my cheeks, which made him sound like he was having some sort of a fit, and then I'd back off, and go back to just licking his length and making small suckling bites on his inner thighs.

He started to beg me then, using broken sounds and my name. I let him do it for a while till he sounded frantic, because that craving I heard in his voice sounded so sweet to me. Then, since I was more than ready to come myself, and I wanted us to try and come together, I gave him a last lick and a swirl of my tongue around the head of his cock.

Then I positioned myself over him and lined up our dicks, and lowered myself into the slickness of pre-cum and sweat that coated our bellies and I moved on him, slow, relentless and he came with a scream, and I followed him a few seconds later, feeling the hotness spurting from him onto my own cock.

///

 

“I dunno,” Blair said sleepily, later, after we'd recovered enough for me to move to his side. “I think maybe you are kind of a barbarian, cause you really liked the ravish and plunder thing you did to me.”

I snorted. “You loved it, Qhusi.”

“Oh, yeah, I did. I also think,” he held one wrist and circled it with his other hand, “that you do have a bit of a kink going here. I could feel how much you loved holding my wrists. That's okay. I think I might be developing my own kink for being held down. We should test that hypothesis – a lot. Can't have too small of a study sample, and get the stats wrong.”

“It's your mouth – the way you talk to me, so filthy and sweet. It makes me want to give you what you deserve.”

Blair shivered, but not the way he had when he was freezing from the cold showers I'd forced on him. This shiver was different; and curious, I pushed up my sense of smell. Yeah, his scent had just changed, it was heavier, sweeter, a tropical scent from a humid jungle.

I kissed him, enjoying the pliancy I felt from his body. It was too soon to resume having sex, since there were no drugs fueling our desire, but we would touch and tease until our bodies had rested enough to go again. Because we were going to fuck this time. We'd work out who was on top and who bottomed. I didn't care. I enjoyed both, and Blair had told me he was the same.

I ended the kiss in favor of nuzzling at his neck, and he gave a contended sigh.

But even as we played and teased each other, I hadn't forgotten that he had never answered my earlier question.

 _I hope that some day you can love me back._

Hope can lead you to setting your expectations too high. Maybe I shouldn't hope that Blair would learn to love me. Yes, I was in love with him, and I felt more and more that I would love him in the steady and true way. Maybe I should learn to be content with Blair just being with me and our bodies being close to each other, either in sex or just touching.

Maybe I should let well enough alone and not ask him to love me back.

///

 

Blair's eyes were as dilated as they had been when he'd been drugged with the aphrodisiac, and every time I nailed his prostrate with my dick, I could hear his heart speed up a little. I played with him, pounding into him or slowly inching into his body and then giving him a thrust that made him groan in pleasure. He was going to come for me very soon. Only the fact that I'd gripped him so tightly around his dick earlier had kept him from shooting all over himself already.

“Say my name,” I demanded.

“Ji-Jim,” he stammered out and I used both hands to grip the back of his thighs and hoisted him a little higher before I thrust into him again.

“All my name.”

“Jame-s Jo-se-ph El... Ellison, you bastard.”

“Good job, my sweet little guide. Do you want to come now, sweet guide?”

“Yes, dammit, yes! C'mon, ugh, don't st-op.”

I settled into a steady rhythm, fucking my guide, and it gave me a dark kind of thrill to call him that. I hadn't wanted a guide, but I had one now, and I'd decided to make the most of it. If we were going to be tied so tightly together, then I would know this man inside and out and make sure he knew me, too. We'd leave co-dependent behind and forge into new territory of intimacy.

Blair was making stupid sex noises, and his eyes, oh, his eyes were so lost in pleasure.

My own orgasm started to overtake me and I held myself in his tight flesh, letting my sense of touch elevate me higher and higher and I screamed, the sound echoing to me as it bounced off the walls. I froze as my dick pulsed in his ass, a heady beat in time with the pounding of my own heart, my eyes shutting in relief.

Finally, I was able to move again and I looked down at him. He looked wonderful to me, so lovely, so _mine._ He was still on the verge, and he tried to fuck himself on my dick, but I stopped him. I leaned over and blew on his pretty cock.

I said one word, “guide,” and blew again, and he lost himself, lost control of his body as he orgasmed for me.

For me.

Without me touching him except for my breath.

I wanted him again. But this time, I ached to see him riding me, and I'd thrust up into him, over and over and hold his hands so he couldn't touch himself.

I saw Blair looking dazedly at me. And I didn't want to slide out of him, to lower his legs down, to free him from me.

I wanted to keep him like this as long as possible. My sweet guide, fucked to utter relaxation.

He licked his lips.

And when he whispered, he didn't say my name. But it made me thrust one last time into him, my dick still hard.

“Sentinel.”

///

 

Blair started referring to when we had sex as our bond-a-thon, and after the first time we'd had sex, we'd taken the bonding enhancement drug that the doctor had sent along. It made our bodies more efficient at kick starting the bonding process.

But we didn't take the aphrodisiac. We wanted to make love on our schedule, not be held in the grip of a drug.

The bonding drug was different. It didn't affect our sex drive at all, just made us more mellow. I was treated to a lecture by Blair on the role Oxytocin plays in human and animal species, until I shut him up by kissing him senseless. I made a note to myself that that was an effective way of dealing with him when he got over enthusiastic about something and felt compelled to share.

We ate, we talked, we even played cards – well, Strip Off _was_ a card game, and we both enjoyed watching each other lose articles of clothing – and we watched some holo-shows that I'd had on my slave.

We avoided talking about more stressful things, like how everything Blair owned, here on Quyllur and on New Rainier, had been confiscated to be sold. I'd commed Simon, when Blair was in the shower and asked him if he could salvage a few things of Blair's before they were taken away.

Simon saved Blair's slave, because it had a lot of his research on it, and also holo-pictures of friends and his mother. Also, Simon picked a few changes of clothes, and treasures Blair'd had in his ship -- keepsakes of places he'd traveled to, and bracelets, earrings, and necklaces. Everything Simon turned in was documented and shown to fit into the small dimensions the judge had allowed.

Not much to show for twenty-three years of life.

After four days of isolation, and sex, learning about each other's lives, sex, discussing how Blair's skills could assist me as a detective, sex, watching holo-shows while making out, sex, exercising, sex, cuddling, sex and more sex, we had our first indication that the bond had happened.

I was in the shower, and I heard Blair tell me that my comm was ringing. I spoke to myself, in my head, “Well answer it, then. Tell whoever I'll comm them back.”

Except when I left the bathroom, towel wrapped around me, Blair was on my comm. He held it out to me, and I talked to Simon for a few minutes. Blair's caseworker had been assigned and upon learning that we were in isolation, had set up a time for a holo-meeting with Simon and us for two days from now.

When I ended the comm, I found out that actually, Blair hadn't spoken to me, and I hadn't spoken to him. We'd used telepathy to communicate.

We experimented then and found that vague thoughts wouldn't transmit, neither could we pick out thoughts in each other's heads. What would work was if we phrased clear language in the way we would if we were going to say it out loud. Blair made plans for us to test the range, and was happily occupied making graphs and charts on my slave for future testing. He was also curious about how much my senses were enhanced, and since he'd accepted that he was my guide, he was determined to be a good one.

He told me that meant we would be doing lots of testing of my abilities, and he sounded very pleased with himself about it.

You can take the boy out of academic life, but you can't take academia out of the boy, apparently.

I'd been doing a little testing of my own, and from the sense of amusement and exasperation I felt from Blair the last two times I'd done it, he'd figured out my scheme.

I was just using basic conditioning to help Blair feel positive about being my guide. So calling him my guide, before I let him orgasm, was building that positive association in his head. Sex was a powerful reinforcement. I was a practical man. I used what came to hand. And mouth, and dick.

I commed the doctor that evening. In the morning, we'd go to the infirmary and run the medical tests. If the tests showed we'd bonded sufficiently, then Blair's collar would be removed. And then we'd get on with our new life as sentinel and guide.

///

 

Blair came out of Simon's office with his face red and looking abashed. I smirked at him, and he narrowed his eyes.

“Jim! Did you just use your powers for evil?”

I gave him a toothy grin. “If by powers, you mean my gifts, that's what Incacha called my enhanced senses, then I did happen to extend my sense of hearing while you were meeting with Captain Banks. I may have inadvertently overheard something about turning you over his knee if you ever throw sex-talk at him again. I do think your answer probably embarrassed him as much as he embarrassed you, though. Quoting sexual research on the power dynamics when one man spanks another really surprised him.”

I grabbed him and noogied his hair. Blair bent down in an attempt to wiggle away, but I had him. “His son is a teenager, and you're not too much older, sport. He thinks of you as being a kid, like his kid. I doubt he was being serious, he was just trying to give you some payback for what you said to him when he handed you over to me in the secure room.”

Blair elbowed me in the gut and I let him go. He straightened and tried to finger comb his hair back into some sort of order. I was sure his hair would resist, and stay as wild looking as usual.

“Well, yeah, maybe I shouldn't have quoted the Mayer-Strong research, but Jim, I'm not a kid, and he's my boss, and I think I just screwed up the odds on him giving me a chance around here. It's hard enough for people to take me seriously, when they learn I'm a bastard who doesn't even know his father's class standing or have access to his genetic information. I've always had to be smarter, work harder, and work longer to even be noticed. And now, with me being convict labor, it's going to be a hundred times harder. I feel like he's already made up his mind about me, and I'll never be able to earn his respect.”

Blair kicked at the desk where I was perched on top, and he'd been so worked up that he hadn't noticed Simon had followed him out of the office and had heard every word Blair had said.

“Sandburg.” Blair jumped and spun around. I felt a distinct feeling of dismay from him, but he straightened up and looked Simon in the eye. He had to lean his head back in order to do so – Blair was pretty short, and Simon a lot taller than most men – but his gaze didn't waver.

It was just the three of us at the moment in this work area of the ship.

Simon frowned at him. Blair didn't break eye contact. I thought that if Jack had been here, he'd have wanted to lay a bet on who was going to look away first. My money would have been on Blair. I sent that thought to him, and I watched a tiny smile start to form at the corner of his mouth, before he banished it.

Simon sighed and gave up the contest. “I'll be straight with you, Sandburg. Jim believes you're not guilty. I think you are. I also think you didn't know exactly what you were smuggling for that girl, but you knew it was something illegal. Yana has hurt people close to my family, and I'm not going to forget that you had a hand in it. But you've been given your punishment and I'm willing to give you a chance to do right for Jim and for this department. To start with, I meant it when I said don't throw sex talk at me ever again. Why that even occurred to you, I don't know.”

I took a chance and reminded Simon of his actions when he first met Blair. “Uh, sir. Blair could have gotten that idea because you did caress his butt the first time he met you.”

Blair didn't move, didn't say anything, but Simon gave a small groan and put his head in his hand. “I forgot about that. I was acting, and I wanted to intimidate you and see what would happen.”

“I apologize, Captain Banks, for the things I said, but in my own defense I was drugged at the time. Can we just mutually drop it and pretend none of it ever happened?”

“Good idea. Now, I expect you to follow the rules and also the limitations I'm imposing. You are to help Jim with his senses, and do whatever he tells you to do. You'll be with him, for the most part, and I expect you to go through the same training cadets go through, although you won't get a badge or have any authority to detain or arrest anyone. But I do want you to know how to handle yourself safely.”

He pointed a finger at Blair. “But, you may not access records, you may not carry a standard weapon, you may not question witnesses. You are not a protector, Sandburg. Consider yourself more along the lines of an observer. That doesn't mean there won't be plenty of work for you to do. While Jim is doing mundane things that don't require you to guide him, there will be a list of chores, mostly janitorial, for you to work on. You will keep a log of what you've done and Jim will sign off on it or I will. Community Service will probably want those records, and you can expect that bunch to be suspicious and be looking for a reason to throw you back into court. You got a sweet deal, in my opinion, and to be honest, I was against it. Now Jim's tied to you for life, and I hope you can show me that you're worth it.”

Blair stood ramrod straight. “I'll only say this once, Captain, and I don't expect it to change your opinion. I didn't smuggle the plants; I had nothing to do with the Yana trade. I am sorry for the harm it's done to your family, but it wasn't by me. That's it. I'm not going to keep moaning about my innocence. I'm aware that Jim claiming me saved me from the usual fate for a convict given my kind of sentence, and I'm going to try and be a good guide for him.”

He held his hands up in a gesture of acceptance. “I don't mind cleaning. I've done it and other kinds of jobs to support myself and pay for school. I'll follow the rules. Um... Do you have a copy of them so I can read them over? Who should I talk to about cleaning supplies? Oh, and I've been thinking that I should run some baseline tests with Jim to find out what his parameters are for his senses, and I'll keep documentation on everything we learn. I also thought I'd give you a list of work I've done in the past and my degrees, and the skills that I've learned to earn those degrees. You might have some cases where I could help, in a non-nosy consultant kind of way.”

He glanced at me for a second before addressing Simon again. “I know that you saved my stuff as a favor for Jim, not me, but I wanted to thank you for doing it anyway. My slave has got pictures of my mom on it, and I don't think I'll be seeing her again, as long as I'm on any world that's a member of the compact. Um, so thanks.”

Simon sighed deeply. “See Mica Owens about supplies. Jim's got a copy of the rules you can look at. Yes, keep records. No, I doubt that we're going to need your assistance to solve any cases, and I already know about your degrees and all the jobs you've worked that were legitimate, and some that were borderline. You lied about your age to get that one bartending job, didn't you? And you're welcome. Now find something guide related to do, or you can mop the floor in here.”

Blair swallowed, and his eyes got bigger. “Uh, yeah, Simon, I did fudge my age to get that job. I needed it, my scholarships didn't cover all my expenses, like food. I'm not in trouble for it now, am I? I mean, it was years ago, and... maybe I'll just go look up the law on that, okay?”

“Don't call me Simon, call me Captain Banks. And knock if you need to come into my office. Now scram, I want to talk to Jim.”

Blair left, muttering about finding Mica and getting squared away, and I followed Simon into his office.

“Jim, I'm going to make sure that Sandburg doesn't go to the flight deck. So tell him that it's a restricted area for him. His code is going to be red-flagged and if he tries to use it to gain entry, he'll be locked out and he'll find himself in big trouble. I still think he's capable of pulling a runner, not that it would be successful, but let's not even give him the chance to try it. Look, have you tracked him yet by his beacon?”

I hadn't. Blair had been with me ever since we'd emerged out of our cave – Blair had taken to calling the secure room that and, amused, I'd gotten in the habit, too. We'd passed the bonding tests, Blair's leg was checked and was healing on schedule and I'd shown him my quarters on board. Simon had placed his belongings in it, and he'd been happy to see them. He kept repeating this little phrase to himself, after I mentioned how sorry I was that his bird was going to be sold. 'I'm letting this go, I'm letting this go.' He'd said it was something his mother had taught him.

Simon showed me how to call up Blair's beacon information, and how I could get the map to zoom in or zoom out. I located him one level down, at the maintenance office.

“Sir,” I began, but Simon held up his hand. “If you're going to try and get me to let the kid actually help with cases, save your breath. Speaking of cases, you can go back on active duty after we meet with Sandburg's caseworker tomorrow. For today, just stay in the office and acclimate the kid to how we do things around here. Work with Jack, and help him finish up the rest of his cases. I expect in three weeks to be done here, including setting up a field office. I'm not sure yet where I'm going to assign you but before I do, the kid needs to come back to New Rainier and go to the academy. There's a new class slated to begin in a month, and he's going to audit the courses. You might start doing some training with him, get him toughened up for the defense classes -- I expect him to pass the physical tests.”

“What about artillery and hand weapons?”

“I want him qualified, but he's not going to carry, not officially. But in case things go to perdition while you're on the job, I want the kid to know enough to handle your weapons.”

“Sir, there's something else I'd like to discuss.”

I brought up going to see my people, and taking Blair with me. I explained that Incacha would help both of us fine tune the sentinel -guide bond, and that since the investigation was over, I wanted to discuss with Incacha how the tribes should be made aware that someone was stealing sacred plants to make Yana.

Simon agreed we could go when Jack's cases were wrapped up and dismissed me. I met Blair as he returned, and I showed him my desk and set up a space for him next to me with a smaller desk. He got busy with his slave, designing those sensory tests he'd been enthusiastically telling me needed to be done, and I pulled Jack's remaining cases to review them.

Just another day at the office.

///

 

The smile Blair gave to his caseworker, after she introduced herself, slid right off his face when she leveled a withering look back at him.

The holo of Samantha Giles, transmitted from the Department of Community Services on New Rainier, showed a very attractive young woman, and I had felt a flare of interest from Blair when her image appeared in the holo-emitter room.

He recoiled from her disdain like a fire had suddenly flared up in his face, and actually took a couple of steps backwards. I was feeling a little conflicted – on the one hand I had felt a quick flash of jealously because that smile of his should be reserved only for me, and on the other hand this woman pinged me as being a predator, with Blair as her prey. I wanted to step in front of him, protect him. Instead I introduced myself and shot Blair a telepathic warning to not say anything and let me talk to her.

He glanced at me, and I saw agreement in his eyes. So I handled the details of how often Blair (and I, because I wasn't letting him near her without me) would be required to meet with her, the forms that would need to be completed and sent in monthly, and Blair's travel boundaries.

They were fairly generous on Quyllur, and I told her we would be returning to New Rainier within a couple of weeks. After questioning me about where my work normally took me in Cascade, she set up boundaries for New Rainier. If Blair went outside the approved coordinates, then an automatic flag would be sent to her, to Captain Banks, and myself. She reminded me that the court order stated that I had to inform her if I wanted my guide with me outside his limits, and that if it was necessary he travel without me, she would have to consent -- and she would not, unless there was some very pressing reason. She warned us that if he left his allotted areas alone without her permission, it would be an automatic return to court.

She pursed her lips, and I could see she was thinking something through.

“Detective Ellison, I have no authority over you. But if you are careless and do not inform me when you take your guide outside these limits, causing unnecessary alarm and work for this department, then your guide will be punished instead. I will assign him extra shifts to be completed with the department, the work will be along the lines of picking up trash by the roadsides, working at garbage and recycling stations, basically the nastiest work I can come up with. I will meet with your guide once a month, by holo, unless he is on New Rainier. Then I will expect him to meet with me in person. I may or may not do a drug screening; it will be done at random, and I may at anytime require him to meet with me.”

She addressed Blair directly then, and made a point of telling Blair that he was not allowed back on campus. Any campus. Libraries were also not allowed unless I ordered him to do research relating to his guide duties, or I accompanied him. She made it clear that unless I needed him at social functions, he was not to attend any lectures, holo-shows, plays, sporting events, or to be at private parties or public celebrations.

She gave Blair another one of those scorching looks and told him that in the department's opinion, he had found a loophole and took advantage of the law. Usually only very minor offenders were assigned to Community Service, more serious criminals like him were mind-wiped and sent to more appropriate placements. She warned him that she would be watching him closely, and that if he did not follow the rules exactly and violated his probation he would be remanded into custody. The department would recommend that the bond be broken, and that he be sent to Cyclops Industries for placement as a mind-wiped convict laborer.

Neither one of us, since Simon would also being monitoring us, had expected quite this much hands-on supervision from Community Service. Blair was trying to be stoic and I'm sure he fooled Ms. Giles, but he was upset, sad and angry at losing his rights to so many of his interests.

I figured I'd be learning lots of new cultural and educational things, because I'd be attending a lot of lectures in my future, and of course my guide would need to be with me.

Blair kept the smile off his face, but I felt it anyway.

I explained that I would be going into the jungle to meet with Sho'nakan tribes, and that I needed Blair to be with me. She added the coordinates to the boundaries, and then asked if I had any other questions.

I did have one about the drug testing requirement. I wasn't sure if I could do it, or Simon or if it had to be done by a doctor. She said Captain Banks could administer the usual test, but that if we were on New Rainier she, herself, would on occasion do a more thorough test that prevented fraud. Off world, other arrangements would be made with a med tech consultant with the department.

She explained that for the higher level test she would catheterize my guide to draw a sample and keep him in restraints for twelve hours before a second sample was drawn for comparison. The restraints, she explained, was to prevent tampering.

I didn't like the look on her face when she explained this. I couldn't get as good a reading on her with just a holo-image, but her eyes had dilated while discussing restraining Blair, and I suspected that picturing Blair being humiliated was turning her on.

I thought she was probably a sexual sadist, and I resolved never to let Blair in her company without me.

She dismissed us after stating that our next meeting would be on New Rainier, and if she wanted an unscheduled catheterized drug screen, she would let the doctor on board know and Blair would be ordered to report to the infirmary. Otherwise Captain Banks should randomly test Blair once a month with the standard urine screen.

Her image blinked out, and I turned off the emitters on our end.

“Chief, did you ever hear of an old story called “The Lady or the Tiger?”

“It's really ancient but yes, I know it.”

“Well, your caseworker may look like the lady, but she's actually the tiger. Be careful; she'd like nothing better than to attack you.”

“I know. She made it kind of obvious that she hates my guts.”

“Yeah, but I think she's attracted to you also, and not in a good way. She was showing signs of arousal when she was describing how she would punish you and when she described that drug test. I'm not letting you near her by yourself. If she tells you to come alone, you tell me, understand?”

“Hey, no argument from me. Now what? Run some tests or meet with Jack?”

“Actually, I have to meet with Jack, but you're not invited.”

“So it's the old chore list for me; guess I'll get the cleaning cart from Mica. Come and get me when you're done.”

///

 

If I didn't have a pipeline to his real feelings, I would have bought Blair's act that he was perfectly fine with being snubbed by some of the other protectors on board, as they came and went from Quyllur's field office, or that when he was told to get lost when a conversation veered into case work he'd prefer to scrub the ships' filters instead, anyway.

On the other hand, his cheerfulness and industriousness had earned him grudging acceptance from some of my co-workers. A few of them, mostly women, had at first given him treats, like I starved him or something. He always thanked them and told them that he'd eat it later, when he could share it with me. It was smart on his part, showing that he considered us a team.

But there were others who would bring him up in conversation, and who would wink about Blair performing sexual favors for me, which wasn't any of their business, as I was quick to point out to them whether they'd intended me to be included in the conversation, or I just overheard them.

Some people apparently thought that being a guide meant he was available to others, like 'guide' was another name for 'sex worker.' He would soon set those poor souls straight, by cramming down their throats a lecture on the facts and history of how the ancient pre-altered guides and sentinels had formed bonds, too, but that the genetic alterations done centuries ago had tightened the bond until there was only room for two in it; the sentinel and the guide. His victim at that point was usually desperately trying to escape from his clutches, but Blair would follow them, going on and on about every boring fact he knew about sentinels and guides.

He could make it interesting, as I had reason to know, but for those chumps he took a wicked glee in trying to make their ears bleed from the babble overload.

I kept an ear trained on him when he was out of my sight. At first, I'd come running if he was being bothered, but he soon set me straight about not trying to rescue him.

“Look, Jim, I appreciate you wanting to kick the ass of anybody who says boo to me, but I'm a big boy and I've been through this kind of thing my whole life. I'll take care of it. But if for some reason I do need you, I'll holler, okay? Those tests we did show that our telepathy's range works throughout the ship, so quit worrying.”

I thought if we stayed much longer that he would end up fairly well accepted. But there would be barriers he would never be able to breach, both because of his class standing and because of being my convict-guide.

I alone knew how depressed he felt sometimes, how a comment could hurt him, and how he felt caged. I did my best to make him feel cherished, in the weeks before we left for New Rainier. Sometimes I even succeeded.

Jack, at least, appreciated Blair's help. We kept to the letter of the law Banks had laid down, and Blair wouldn't be given specific details about the few cases still left to wrap up, but hypothetically Jack would ask him where a certain type of guy or gal might hang out, or who they might be in collusion with, and where they could be found.

I didn't know if it was because of his training as an anthropologist, where he automatically observed and categorized and noted patterns of behavior, or if being a bastard and a member of the underbelly of society made him such a good resource, but he was, and with his help Jack and I rounded up the last of the miscreants.

Simon smelled a rat, of course, but all three of us could swear to him that not a single name had been given to Blair and that Blair had not read any files.

We had a week before the Pride of Cascade was due to return to New Rainier, and we spent it with Incacha.


	5. Part Five

We had walked into the village and waited for Incacha to come and greet us. Blair was familiar with this kind of acceptance ritual, and accepted the protection symbols of smoke drawn around him and inhaled the smoke from Incacha's mouth, as I did.

“Welcome, Enqueri. And welcome to you, apprentice. Come to my campfire tonight and we will talk of the path traveled by you both.”

Blair bowed his head, a gesture of respect, and I clasped Incacha's arm strongly, as he did mine, before we stepped apart.

A young boy, Kuyani, and his sister, Tica, came up to me and both tugged on my wrists. Their grandmother had sent them to invite us to eat with them. I accepted and took Blair's hand to follow the children.

He looked a little startled, but he didn't pull his hand free as we trailed behind the two kids. I guess I couldn't blame him for his reaction. We hadn't engaged in much physical affection in public, not when we had gone down to Quilla Rumi, or when we were on the ship. I squeezed his hand and decided it was time to explain some things.

“Blair, this is my home. I may not be here very much, but my adoption into the tribe means everything to me. You're my family now, and I want my people to get to know and care about you. When we're working, yeah, we should act professionally, maybe it will cut down on those stupid remarks we both get, but I'm home and I want to touch you freely.”

Blair was quiet and his emotions were in a turmoil. Maybe I shouldn't have presumed he wanted to make public what we had been keeping private. “Ah, I'm sorry. I should have talked with you first. Are you all right with this?” I held up our joined hands.

“You consider me your family?” There were still strong feelings of confusion and pensiveness emanating from him, and I tried to send back reassurance and trust and, well, love. Huh. This wasn't lust or the heady feeling of being in love. This was warm and accepting and liking, and wanting to comfort and take care of him.

“I love you, Blair Sandburg.” I pulled his hand to my lips and kissed it.

“Jim.” He stopped, and pulled me to him. He gave me a long look, his eyes affirming the tangled emotions he was feeling.

“You love me, I'm family to you?”

“Yep.”

“I've never been in love, Jim. Sure, I've cared about people, but I've never felt crazy about them before.”

“Before?”

“Before now. Wow. I mean, I'm looking at you and I feel all flushed and flustered and I want to kiss you, and I want to --” He looked at the children and finished that thought telepathically. “I want to fuck you, but that's not really it, I mean there's more and I want to be near you and wake up with you and if you decided you didn't want me anymore I think I might die from the pain. I feel vulnerable, like you cracked my shell open and you could reach right into my heart and hurt me so badly I'd never survive.”

I stopped his thoughts by kissing him until we both had to stop to breathe.

I said, “So, Qhusi. What you've just figured out is that you are in love with me.”

Blair looked stunned, and then a smile lit his face, and I hadn't seen him ever smile like that.

“Yeah, I guess I am in love with you, because otherwise I don't think I would be able to put up with that smug look on your face.”

He put his arms around my neck and kissed me, fervently and greedily, to the accompanying sounds of Tica's and Kuyani's loud giggling.

///

 

Neither one of us wanted to leave when the week was up. And Incacha adopted Blair the night before we hiked back to Quilla Rumi.

Blair had traveled to the spirit plane three times during our visit; twice with Incacha, and once with me. We had gone to that waterfall again, and this time we bathed each other in the cool water and made love in the soft grass. Afterwards, Blair had rolled on top of me, and held my head between his hands.

“Enqueri, our souls are bound together, but not equally. You overtook me when I was in great despair, and fused my soul to yours. I did not understand why you had done this, at first, but acceptance has come to me now. But we are not balanced, and so I ask of you to give to me your soul. I will cherish it, as I know you cherish mine. I do not demand this, and I will not steal it from you. I will go now and you must search your heart and soul and do what you feel is right.”

“Qhusi, I do not need time to make this decision. My soul has been yours since we bonded. I would have given it to you earlier, if I had known you wanted it. But I do not know how to give you this gift. I acted out of instinct before when I took yours. Do you know how to accomplish this?

Blair smiled. “I do. Make love to me again, Enqueri, and when your seed is ready to pass from your body into mine, visualize all you are and all you can be, and send your soul to me in the form of your seed. I will keep your soul safe within my soul, as you keep my soul safe within yours.”

We made love again, so tenderly, touching with delight, an endless quiet passion while the stars wheeled in the sky above us, continuing our loving as the sun rose and set, and the moon and stars and sun spun above us for cycle after cycle.

Finally, in starlight, I sensed Blair was ready to shudder with pleasure, and I did as he had bade me. I sent all I had been, all I hoped to be, into his lovely body, my cock thrusting over and over into his flesh, love and trust overwhelming me as he accepted my soul. And then, knowing what I must do, I withdrew from his body and took his cock in my mouth as he came, his soul willingly this time connecting to mine.

We lay spent and comforted by the presence of each other, until a tugging we both felt let us know we should leave the spirit plane and return to Incacha's hut. We went once more to the waterfall and stood there together, hand in hand, cleansing ourselves of the fears and anxieties of the mundane world, and then walked through the blue tinged jungle until the sun had risen and the blue light faded and we separated from each other to enter natural dreams.

When we awoke, wrapped in each other's arms, there was a new closeness we both felt. We both agreed that it felt like we'd known each other all our lives.

Blair didn't speak much about the times he'd spent with Incacha on the spirit plane. And truthfully, I felt no real need to ask him about it. Incacha was a shaman; he'd named Blair as his apprentice. They spent hours together every day of our visit, and I could see that Blair was able to put aside the reality of being a convict. I was glad for him, and spent the time apart visiting families I cared about, and letting go of being Detective James Ellison, at least for a few days.

But Blair and I spent plenty of time together, too, and as my guide he traveled with me on the jungle paths as I scouted for game for the tribe. He was a bit in awe of how my senses could expand, here in the natural world, without some of the drawbacks I experienced when in town or on the ship. He was shyly pleased when I told him being bonded to him had made a huge difference, that when I had last been the tribe's sentinel I had been in pain to the point that Incacha had feared for my life.

I liked to think that if Blair and I had met in other circumstances, we would have been drawn to each other and made the decision to bond as sentinel and guide, and perhaps even as soul-mates. It seemed unthinkable now that I might have refused him as a guide, or perhaps never even met him.

On our last evening Blair and Incacha had gathered sacred teaching plants and brewed a concoction to help Wamini expel a sickness he had been stricken with after he'd almost drowned. Incacha demonstrated how the infusion was to be made, Blair repeating back to him the sacred plants and how one should pick them. Wamini, who had left adolescence behind last summer, breathed in the vapors until Incacha took the pot away from him. He then gave him a different drink, a medicinal brew that he was to drink all of and return in the morning for another dose.

Wamini left after giving Incacha several dark blue, almost purple stones as payment. Incacha took one and passed it to Blair, telling him to keep it to remind him of his teacher.

Blair gave Incacha the same nod of respect he had when he'd first met him, and then Incacha laid his hand over Blair's heart.

“Apprentice, we have traveled on the paths of the moon to the spirit world, and I have studied your nature. I know you are no sorcerer, and you hold Enqueri's well being in your heart. I would make you my son, if you will agree to it.”

Blair looked shocked. I probably did, too, because it was a great honor that Incacha was offering to Blair. The tribe did not offer adoption easily; mine had been the last one to be done. I had been adopted by the tribe as a whole, sentinel to my people. Incacha was offering a personal adoption, offering to be Blair's father, as well as his teacher.

Joy, surprise, feelings of unworthiness all flooded from Blair, I sent back reassurance and spoke to him, mind to mind.

“He honors you greatly, Qhusi. Do you wish to accept and be made his son and join my people for yourself and not just because you are my guide?”

“I... I... Jim, does he know I'm a bastard? That I'm practically considered an untouchable on New Rainier? That I'm a convict?”

“I'm not sure. But probably. You did spirit walk with him and he is a shaman. Besides, he's one of the nicest guys I've ever met. If he says he would like you to be his son, then he means it. But talk to him yourself. He'll tell you the truth.”

I nodded to Incacha and made myself scarce. When I checked back on Blair, he was busy pouring out his heart and letting Incacha know that among his birth people he was considered of very low status. He told Incacha that he wanted him to know the truth and that if Incacha wanted to withdraw his offer, he'd understand.

Incacha let him talk and talk, letting all the bitterness and hurt Blair had felt all of his life spill out of him, like water onto sand, the painful memories wicking away leaving only a trace of their existence.

Blair later told me that after he'd explained how much New Rainier didn't value him, and how he'd been falsely accused and found guilty of crimes he didn't commit, that Incacha had told him of the qualities he had seen in Blair and that he had consulted the spirits before making the offer to adopt Blair. He did not offer adoption lightly, and Blair becoming his son and a member of his tribe would be a cause of great celebration.

Blair had told him yes, and asked me, mind to mind, to join us. Incacha was hugging Blair when I returned to his campfire. Incacha asked me to prepare Blair for the ceremony, which would be at sunset, and he snagged a small child walking by and asked her to bring her grandmother to his campfire.

He winked at me, while I tucked Blair under my arm. I could feel how shaky Blair felt, emotionally wrung out.

“After I speak with Manay, she will be happy to tell the other grandmothers, and all will soon know to come here when the sun goes to its home beneath the sky and witness the adoption. Go now, Blair, with Enqueri, and I will think of what name to give you that marks you as belonging to our people.”

I took Blair to the small river nearby, and he bathed and changed into clean clothes that had been given to him earlier in the week as a gift. Then we waited, Blair meditating, until almost sunset.

As the sky reddened, we walked, hand in hand to Incacha's fire. There was a large group of people ringing it, with more walking or running to join the large circle. Two small boys began to shove each other, as they jockeyed for closer position, and were promptly separated and scolded.

Blair and I walked through the circle of people, who were talking and laughing and several patted me on the back as I joined them. Blair kept moving until he stood in front of Incacha. Everybody quieted and Incacha threw Naya on the fire, the herbal smoke spiraling up into the air, a sweet scent wafting over us. It was a simple ceremony, Incacha anointing Blair on the forehead with a herbal paste that even I knew was for purification.

Incacha spoke then, and told the people of Blair, who was a good man, and whose soul spoke to his own. He told them that when he asked the spirits about adopting Blair, the spirits had told him that Blair would be a good son. He said he knew that Blair could not stay all the time with them, that he was guide to Enqueri and together they would span pacha, space-time, to travel to other stars. That Blair's life had been hard, and that knowing he had a father who loved him would help him in those travels.

Then he asked Blair if he consented to being the son of Incacha, a Sho'nakan shaman.

Blair affirmed his desire to be adopted.

Incacha used his thumb and traced a symbol with the paste above each of Blair's eyes, in between his eyelids and his eyebrows.

He did the same on the back of each of Blair's hands, right over his code on his right hand, and somehow I felt that was symbolic in a way. Blair's code made a point of announcing to the world that he had no father. Well, he had a father now. In the eyes of New Rainier, it wouldn't really change anything, since Incacha wasn't a citizen under the compact, but it would fill a gap in Blair's heart that he hadn't even realized was there, till Incacha's offer had filled it.

When Incacha painted the symbol over Blair's heart, opening his simple shirt to do so, he announced to the crowd that this was his son, and his tribal name was Sunqu. Heart.

He and Sunqu embraced then, and together they went around the circle and all of us reached out to touch Sunqu, sometimes on his arm, or his shoulder, and a few motherly sorts patted him on his cheek. When he came to me, though, I placed one hand over his heart and the other on the back of his neck. Then I drew closer to him and kissed him. Sunqu's cheeks reddened, his smile tremulous and so sweet. Then I let him go to meet the rest of his people as Incacha's son.

///

 

Sunqu left the village the next morning after saying farewell to his father, and waving goodbye to the few people who had been awake when we had left. It was a long hike back to Quilla Rumi, and it would take us most of the day.

“Jim, my head is splitting.”

“Yeah, mine too. The grandmothers brew some potent stuff, don't they?”

“Understatement of the year. It was a terrific party, though. I'm going to miss everybody terribly. I still can't believe that I was adopted, that I have a father. I hope we can come back soon. Do you think Simon will assign us back here after I complete the academy course?”

“I don't know. It's not up to me, but I'll ask him about it.”

“Man, we need to get rid of our hangovers. I brought some juice and water along, and let me know if you see any of these plants.” He rattled off half a dozen names, all plants that if chewed would alleviate headaches.

We set a moderate pace, and it was with relief that we did come across a headache plant and chewed it as we walked. With our heads in better shape, we made good time, and before sunset we arrived at the outskirts of Quilla Rumi. We made our way to Jack's house, and met him there. He had come down to pack up what belongings he wanted to take with him back to New Rainier. He wouldn't be staying there long; he would be assigned to a different fringe planet to infiltrate the criminal world there, to send information back to New Rainier of any crimes that were taking place on New Rainier or any of its satellite worlds. And when that fringe planet joined the compact, he would see who he could scoop up before the crooks took themselves off to different fringe worlds. Then the cycle would repeat itself.

We said goodby to Quyllur as we rode up in Jack's bird to the Pride of Cascade. The planet hung in the sky, a blue-green gem, a beautiful image to take with us. I watched through a window view screen, as Blair talked with Jack about his adoption.

I'd returned to Quyllur a lonely man who wasn't ever aware of the extent of his isolation. Here I'd reconnected with my people. I'd made friends – Jack, my colleague, and Simon, my boss. I'd found a lover, a best friend, my guide, my partner, my soul-mate. No matter what name I called him, Sunqu, Qhusi, Blair Sandburg, he was the one who completed me. Blair would accuse me of being a sap, of showing my mushy side if I said this to him. I didn't care. He could roll his eyes or pretend to gag, but he couldn't hide how he felt when I told him these truths. He loved it.

There were shadows hanging over our happiness. The worst one was Blair's status as a convict laborer. Until we could clear his name, Blair could be taken from me and sent to Cyclops Industries as a mind-wiped puppet if he didn't keep to the strict rules of his probation with Community Service, and I didn't trust his caseworker to treat him fairly. She oozed vindictiveness.

Also, Blair had lost his academic standing as a grad student. The university had cast him off, just as he had predicted. He tried very hard not to dwell on that loss, but he missed academic life. Another sorrow for him was his isolation from his mother. She would be in danger of being picked up for questioning on a compact world, so he knew he might never see her again.

Blair was bright and capable, and I knew he would be a tremendous asset to the MIC department. He had a way of seeing things differently, of thinking outside the cube. But allowing him to prove himself was going to be an uphill battle. He was wasted doing janitorial work but that was his main assignment, other than helping to guide me.

His adoption was a bright spot, and I blessed Incacha for giving that gift to Blair.

I wondered if Blair thought that all the pain he'd been through and was still facing was worth being my guide. I knew he was sensing what I was feeling – after our mutual soul-bonding our empathic abilities had increased – and he came and sat next to me, while Jack piloted us into orbit.

His hand found mine, and squeezed.

He spoke to me privately, mind to mind. “I love you, Jim. In every way I love you. I mean, I'm in love with you, man, and I want to be with you. I want to make love with you – and I'm your guide. I know things are going to be rough, but have some faith in the universe – after all, it steered us together, didn't it? We'll clear my name, get my conviction overturned. And I'll still be your guide.”

I sent back to him feelings of appreciation and love, determination and admiration. I kissed him and his mouth opened to me in a promise of pleasure to come when we were in our quarters.

We were starting a new phase of our lives together. Blair had to complete his academy training; I needed to find the real mastermind behind the Yana trade. But above all we had become equal partners and we would strive to keep that true.

The Pride of Cascade came into sight, and Jack swung the bird around to the flight deck.

When we stepped back on board Blair and I would resume our public roles as the sentinel in charge of his convict-guide.

But that wasn't who we really were. We knew that and we could only hope that some day the world would know it, too.

 

The end.

 

Author's Notes: Quechua has been the source of some words and concepts.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Upon a Mountain's Edge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/414664) by [laurie_ky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurie_ky/pseuds/laurie_ky)




End file.
